Sides
by imagia-quill
Summary: Merlin thought his Soulpoetry, a "two sides" inscription on his sternum, was about his life, trying to hide his magic all the time. Arthur thought that his Soulpoetry, an "of the same coin" scrawl on the base of his fingers, referred to the fact that he led a very dull Pendragon life. Merthur, magic reveal fic, soulmate au where Soulmates complete each other's Soulpoetries.
1. Chapter 1

**Sides  
** _by: imagia-quill_

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy. Merthur, soulmate AU. Omg, this is the first time I actually, properly write again after a very long time, but this is one of the ideas that never let me rest and tickled the back of my mind day and night, so I have to give it a shot. Aaaaaa, I'm nervous, alright, I shall not keep you all waiting any longer, happy reading and hope you like it!

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 _Chapter 1_

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It took Merlin a while to understand Soulpoetries.

Being an innocent and carefree boy that he was, it took him several years to realize that not everyone had a beautiful inscription that said ' _two sides'_ on their sternum. It was some time when he put together the fact that his own mother didn't have the exact writings on her chest, nor did he have a messy yet somehow intricate carving that said _'dragons'_ just a little beneath his collarbone like his mother.

When he asked his mother about it, she smiled at him softly and caressed his temple. "It's what will lead you to your other half."

Merlin, a five years old lanky boy, could only smile dreamily at such abstract concept. His smile fell when he failed to understand it. "What does it mean?"

Hunith chuckled at her son's antics. "You'll understand one day."

:

Arthur had no one to teach him about Soulpoetries.

Being the sole heir to the throne and the most doted person in the whole of Camelot, it was rather surprising that he was short of resources regarding the knowledge of the said phenomenon. No one seemed to be brave enough to tell him what does the _'of the same coin'_ scrawls on the base of his right hand's fingers mean, they all cowered back and averted their eyes, saying it wasn't their place to speak every time he brought the question up.

Which he found annoying. He was the Prince, and these people dared deny him.

One day he decided he had enough and that he would set out to find the truth himself. He went to the man he thought wisest in the whole court. Gaius, the Court Physician.

"Gaius, what does it mean?" Arthur demanded. He had barged in into the old physician's chamber without knocking, not that the latter hadn't gotten used to the Prince's arrogant and inconsiderate behavior, and took his fist out at Gaius to show the four words inscribed at the base of his index, middle, ring, and little finger.

"It's the Soulpoetry, sire," Gaius said, pretending to inspect Arthur's hand when he actually recognized the phenomenon the moment he set his eyes on it.

Arthur pulled back his arm and folded it boyishly in front of him. "What is it?"

Gaius only smiled, a slight pull on one end of his lips. It was about time the boy would start to go to desperate measures, demanding what his Soulpoetry meant. Children usually learned about Soulpoetries from people who brought them up. Gaius himself learned it from his mother. Arthur didn't have a mother, it was difficult to picture Uther actually explaining Arthur what do Soulpoetries mean, and he imagined all the people at court had said that it was not appropriate that they talk with the sole heir to the throne of Camelot regarding such a delicate matter.

"No one knew how it was made, but to my knowledge, if years of reading different resources had served me a purpose–"

"No, I mean, _what is it?_ If I want a lengthy explanation I would've gone to the royal library myself," Arthur cut, frowning in an annoyed fashion.

Gaius looked at the seven years old blonde-haired boy before expelling a quiet sigh. He had turned to reach the steep staircase to his upper bookshelves, and was about to climb it to reach one of the books he thought would help, when the Prince cut him. He had taken care of Arthur even since before the boy could walk, and he loved him dearly, but really, there was no telling how rude the Prince could be if he had set eyes on something.

"It is something that will lead you to the person who will complete you, sire," Gaius said, turning back to face Arthur, hands behind his back as he stood in a respectful fashion. "The person will complete you just like their Soulpoetry will complete yours."

Arthur, in contrast, was scrunching his nose as Gaius explained, looking more and more like he had swallowed horse dung whole. "What does it even– someone to complete me?"

Gaius didn't even bother to hide his amused smile this time.

:

Merlin was nine when he last asked about his mother's Soulpoetry.

Hunith only smiled, but unlike other times, there were tears in her eyes. "He was like the dragons, Merlin. Hunted and dangerous, but people don't know that he was the wisest person I've ever met, and that our souls are one."

Merlin was surprised to see his mother's reaction. Normally she would just playfully avoid his questions, making him more curious. He was just about to reach her and comfort her when Hunith turned her back at him and brought up her hands to haphazardly wipe her tears. Before he knew it, though, his mother had already turned back at him, a soft smile etched on her lips.

"What do you want for tomorrow's breakfast?"

Merlin never ask about it again.

:

Arthur was thirteen when he started to understand about what Soulpoetries really meant.

Ever since his visit to Gaius all those years ago, he had learned a thing or two about Soulpoetries. He knew that it was supposed to be distinctive and unique, and that its penmanship, color, shape and style, and even the part of the body where it's etched was indicative of the person's personality. Each person's Soulpoetries described the very essence of their souls, and that was why soulmates will have their Soulpoetries complement each other. Their souls were made to hinge perfectly.

(Of course he didn't come across this knowledge easily. It took the life of him to muster his most neutral all matter-of-factly expression and ask Gaius about Soulpoetries, but he figured he'd rather ask Gaius directly than having to peruse the royal library by himself.)

And so it was one evening that he heard the unmistakable clop of horse shoes against the paved entrance and actually bothered to look out his window that he saw a beautiful young maiden arriving at Camelot.

Arthur had seen many beautiful ladies, being the Prince and all, but he had never let his eyebrows rise this high at such a sight.

The girl took off her cloak and revealed her beautiful dark hair that came to her shoulder blades and her piercing blue eyes. She seemed to have gone through some fight though. The green dress underneath her cloak was spattered with dirt and was tattered on the edges, there was a large bruise on her left cheek, her hair looked like she had been dragged through mud at some point, and she wobbled when she dismounted her horse, although, seeing that she quickly regained her posture when she touched the ground, Arthur knew instantly this young lady was a fighter.

Later that night, Arthur was summoned to dine with his father– a very uncommon request.

Arthur was hungrily eyeing the turkey, the matter of beautiful ladies evaporated from his mind the moment he laid eyes on the long table in front of him, when the double doors opened, admitting the brunette from earlier.

If Arthur found the lady beautiful in tattered dress and battle wounds, she was definitely beautiful now with her hair braided elegantly and her simple periwinkle dress flowing ethereally against the slightest movement of the air.

"Arthur, this is Lady Morgana, the daughter of my late beloved friend Gorlois. Morgana, this is my son, Arthur."

If he found the prospect of someone completing him so ridiculous then, he didn't find it so now.

:

 **A/N:** Alright, that's the first chapter! Also, please don't kill me, I cringed too having to write Arthur being attracted to Morgana, but I'm trying to follow the canon as much as possible here. So, what do you guys think? I already have up until the fourth chapter typed, from a total of seven chapters. Should I continue it? Reviews and constructive criticism are all welcomed! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

:

 _Chapter 2_

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Arthur woke up with a slight jolt.

He found himself staring at total darkness as he willed his heartbeat and his breathing to slow down. When the echoing shouts and the shrill screams from his nightmare didn't cease, Arthur grind his teeth together as he hissed, "shut up!"

He shut his eyes, holding his breath as he continued to calm himself. It was his first raiding– there was news of Druid encampment invading Camelot's borders, and rumors stirred that they were preparing for some kind of annual ceremony. Uther hadn't been in Camelot at the time, fighting another enemy of Camelot on the eastern borders, but he had been notified of the news and the order he had sent back was clear: annihilate every single one of them, prevent the ceremony from taking place.

Growing up being taught by Gaius, Arthur knew that Druids were peaceful people. The ceremony could be anything– Gaius himself couldn't really determine what sort of ceremony the Druids were preparing; they did it all the time and none of them were done to cause harm to Camelot so far. But with a man like Uther, Arthur knew he wouldn't see sense from the exact moment he heard the word _sorcery_. But magic was evil, that much Arthur knew, and he couldn't exactly refuse a clear order from the King when he was desperate for his approval, and so he raided the Druid camp.

The last echo of a child screaming rang in Arthur's ears and he gasped. He had ordered his men to spare the women and children, but there were too many fights happening. He himself saw some of the women and adolescents using magic to help the male Druids, it would be difficult for them to stand their grounds without attacking some of them. It was six months ago but, as Arthur tried to brush off the ever-present question of whether or not he had made the right decision, tears began escaping his eyelids.

When he found out that he had soaked his night shirt with sweat all the way to his covers and pillows, he rolled sideways and moved to the other side of the bed, welcoming the coolness of the fabric against his skin and, eventually, sleep.

:

The first rays of sunlight had just started to find their way into the Court Physician's wing and Merlin was jolted out of his sleep when he splashed the cold water on his face.

Really, being employed by the most arrogant royal in Camelot was far from easy. Yesterday, he had helped the Prince with his daily exercise, meaning he had felt the other end of Arthur's quarter staff for most of the morning, and then he had to muck out the stables during the afternoon, and he had to be ready when Arthur gave him a job for the rest of the day, and even after the Prince had gone to sleep he still had to polish Arthur's armors until late at night.

And of course this he could not do with the help of his magic because it would cost him his head.

Closing his eyes, Merlin leaned his forehead against the edge of the bucket and groaned. These chores would be the death of him one of these days, he swore. He barely even got any sleep! It was fortunate that Arthur was a late riser, although how that particular prat could sleep for that long was yet another mystery to Merlin. Well, at least it wouldn't hurt anyone if he could just close his eyes for a moment…

There was a low thud as someone tried to push open the locked bathroom door and Merlin straightened up.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you're still asleep," he heard Gaius voice from the other side of the door before the shadow of his feet from the gap under the door retreated.

"I won't be much longer," Merlin shouted back as he proceeded to wash his face with the cold water from the bucket and changed his clothes quickly.

He fastened the lace on the upper front of his shirt before putting his neckerchief on, making sure it covered everything up to the base of his neck. Merlin sighed, fingering the fabric of his neckerchief, knowing what it hid.

Merlin couldn't remember when he woke up to find the inscription ' _two sides'_ inked on his sternum, but his mother told him his Soulpoetry emerged when he was two years old– at least five years faster than any other ordinary children. The morning sun ray penetrated through the window and fell on his cheeks and Merlin smiled weakly– now he was hiding his Soulpoetry not because it was inappropriate to let one's Soulpoetry show, like any other ordinary people, but more because it was a stark-naked reference to his magic.

He secretly wondered when and how he would be meeting his so-called Soulmate, the person who would complete his Soulpoetry, now that he was in Camelot, the very root of the war against magic.

:

Arthur stood by his window, opening it widely to let the breeze in.

It was quite hot today, with the summer solstice nearing and almost no clouds in the sky. He had just been off from a very boring council meeting, something about renewing a peace treaty between Camelot and a few neighboring kingdoms that Arthur hadn't really listened to, but mostly he was just very grateful he got the chance to spend the day away from the glaring summer sun.

Leaning against the wall beside him, Arthur quietly slid off his rings from his four fingers, each covering a scrawl which together said ' _of the same coin_ ' in black ink. He had been wearing rings on these fingers day and night ever since Gaius taught him that it was not appropriate for someone to let their Soulpoetry show. The rings were thin enough that it didn't bother him to wear gloves and gauntlets with his four rings on and were made from a special metal alloy that didn't itch when he sweat, the royal jeweler made sure of that, but on hot days like these Arthur would just sometimes wished his Soulpoetry had emerged on another part of his body.

He gently took off his rings and cleaned them with his sleeves, letting the cool breeze freely flow in between his fingers.

" _Of the same coin_ ," Arthur found himself scoffing silently as he glanced at his hand. Of course it was the same coin. Same life, same fate, same responsibility.

Normally Arthur would feel quite happy to revisit the phrase after he had his swordsman training and had the people praising how he must have inherited his skills from his father. He was his father's son, that was the very essence of his existence. But on times like these –when he was once again reminded that he would have to lead Camelot one day and make decisions concerning law and order and basically every other dull things Arthur didn't care– he felt like his Soulpoetry was mocking him.

A distant footstep was heard closing in to Arthur's chamber, followed by a loud thud of books hitting the floor.

Putting his rings back, Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Merlin couldn't even bring a couple of books and scrolls from the royal library without dropping any of them.

"Did you get the books from Sir Geoffrey?" Arthur called out.

There was no answer until Merlin's figure appeared on the door, his hands holding a pile of books stacked high enough he had to use his chin to prevent the scrolls on the top of the pile to drop. Arthur's jaw drop as his annoyed frown deepened.

"I got them," Merlin panted.

"I told you to bring some books on the past treaties of Camelot!" Arthur shouted.

"These are the books," Merlin mumbled, his chin holding the books from toppling over, prompting Arthur to sigh with defeat. He supposed Camelot had made a lot of treaties with a lot of kingdoms in the past few years.

Arthur groaned and turned back to stand by the window, enjoying the breeze. "Put them on the table."

He heard a shuffle of feet as Merlin moved to put the books on the table. A sound of the scrolls rolling to the floor followed, prompting Arthur to snap, "careful!"

"Sorry!" Merlin replied, already scrambling on the floor to retrieve the scrolls. Arthur sighed, not even able to be properly angry with his stupid manservant now with the temperature frying them like this.

"Get the other window there opened, will you?" he said, gesturing at the other window by the side of his bed. "It's so hot today! How can you bear the heat with your ridiculous neckerchief like that?"

Arthur wasn't looking when Merlin quickly reached up to fix his neckerchief, almost fearful it was showing any skin.

:

 **A/N:** Aaahh I knooowww, Merlin didn't wear his neckerchief _all the time_ , *cries in frustration because why can't I ever work out a real plot* but for the sake of the story let's just imagine he does, lol. Alright, that concludes the end of chapter two! I'm still trying to follow the canon as much as possible here so I put Arthur's past of raiding a Druid camp from A Herald of the New Age and this is still in season 1, so I imagine he will still be more or less a prat. Also huge thank you for those who reviewed, faved, and followed! *sends virtual hugs* I'm sorry it took so long, I've left my home town and back to the city where I'm staying for uni, and guess what, the semester hasn't official started yet but I already have projects to do, argh. Stay tune for chapter 3, there will be some Soulpoetries revelation!


	3. Chapter 3

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy. Arthur and Merlin are soulmates, no one can convince me otherwise.

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 _Chapter 3_

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"Arthur, behind you!"

Arthur pivoted on his right foot as soon as he heard the warning, squatting as he did so and spread out his left leg to send the person attacking from behind him falling from loss of footing. He barely had the time to swing his sword and slash at the person's abdomen, aiming to heavily wound him but not to entirely kill him, when he saw yet another Saxon charging from his side and he had to bring up his sword to hold his blow.

It was supposed to be a safe trip back to Camelot that day. They had sent scouts ahead and they had sent words back that the path they would take would be safe. No one knew they would be crossing this part of the forest. Arthur simply didn't have any idea how these Saxons could possibly know where and when to strike them.

On the other side of the fight, he saw Merlin standing his grounds with a sword rather impressively, considering how clumsy he was to even balance a stack of books on his hands. He was fighting rather uniquely though, sidestepping slopes that came down when stepped by the Saxons and ducking beneath swung axes that miraculously struck his attacker. He wasn't striking with his sword much, but rather leaving the work to the panicked horses which bridles strangely found its way to snake around the feet of the Saxons. Arthur frowned– _how is he doing that?_

An approaching sound of a galloping horse shook him from his stupor and Arthur had just enough time to parry the blow, sending the rider down with him. The skirmish continued as Arthur took down several more men but then he heard a distant sound of horse hooves– a lot of them, and closing in on them. The Saxons had sent more men.

"Retreat!" Arthur hollered as he pulled out his sword from his opponent, drawing blood with it.

Arrows started to fly around them, and Arthur just had enough time to duck and slide down the nearest sloping ground away from the arrows. It would take less than several seconds before the archers reached them and the slope provided them no more protection. Most of his men had already followed his lead, going to the lower grounds and seizing any horse they could find, but he couldn't see Merlin anywhere.

"Merlin!" he called out amidst the loud cry of the Saxons advancing on them and horses thumping their hooves in a gallop all around him. No reply.

"Retreat!" he shouted. "Leon, lead them south!"

Sir Leon, the left side of his curly hair catching dry leaves as he slid down the sloping ground, pulled himself up. "But, Sire, I'm not leaving you!"

Arthur growled in frustration– the rest of his men were already retreating but they didn't know where to run. He couldn't afford to lose this many men or having a debate with his fellow knight. "Just do as I said!"

But before either of them could say anything, Arthur heard Merlin's familiar shout from the higher grounds. He turned around so quickly his neck hurt, but he didn't feel it, because Merlin was now sliding down the slope, his stomach on the ground, and an arrow was stuck on his shoulder blade.

"Merlin!"

In less than a fraction of a second Arthur was already sprinting to Merlin's side, his right arm snaking under his unwounded shoulder and pulled him to his feet. At the movement, Merlin screamed in pain, followed by him looking like he was trying his best not to convulse, so Arthur had no choice but to pull out the arrow from his shoulder. Right now the arrow was preventing most of the blood from flowing out–to pull it out, the blood loss alone could lead to unconsciousness–but Arthur had seen something like this in his previous fights. The tip of the arrow had been dipped with mild poison– the longer the arrow had contact with the flesh, the more the poison would enter the body. Arthur was just thankful they were facing the Saxons now, considering they still make their arrows without heads, and so pulling it out didn't require any surgical precision.

Leon was already on his horse, approaching them with the only other horse left around them. In no time, the three of them had already fled the battle field, narrowly missing several flying arrows.

:

They had been riding for a long time now, to make sure they had shaken off the Saxons, but Merlin hadn't stopped shivering.

They were still riding on the same horse, having no other option, and it was good that Merlin was light enough that their horse hadn't been slowed down when they were running away from the Saxons, but now the brunet was leaning his back weakly against Arthur's chest, his lanky figure shaking. When Arthur moved a bit to gain a better position to navigate the horse, he bit back a gasp when he found out Merlin had lost a lot of blood, some of which were already seeping to Arthur's chainmail.

"Arthur," he wheezed, his head lolling like a dead scarecrow on Arthur's left shoulder. It started to drizzle lightly, and the brunet was shaking harder.

He tightened his hold of Merlin, willing his voice not to shake as well as he told him, "hang on there."

A sound of galloping horse coming from behind them shook Arthur from his panic. Arthur slowed his horse down, waiting for his scouts to reach them. He had sent two of his men as scouts to check back their path, in case the Saxons were still upon them.

As soon as he had been told that the Saxons had lost track of them, Arthur was already giving commands to his men. "Halt! We rest here to clean our wounds."

After telling them that they would not be stopping for more than a few minutes, at least half of his men were already climbing down their horses, ripping their clothes to bandage their wounds. Arthur dismounted his horse slowly, careful not to let Merlin fall. He wasn't even sure Merlin was still conscious. When he was already on the ground, Arthur gently set Merlin down.

After sitting him against a tree, Arthur's voice shook when he took off Merlin's skin jacket and found a great portion of his red shirt was already soaked with blood from the wound. "Oh, dear God."

"Must keep moving," Merlin managed to lisp weakly, surprising the blonde. "Saxons– behind us."

"They're long gone. Now, don't move, I need to see the wound," Arthur said.

It was impressive how Merlin still managed to be a pain in the neck and refuse to do as he was told. Squirming, the lankier man brought out his shaky hands to brush Arthur off as the latter tried to rip open his shirt to see the wound. "No– don't," he pleaded.

"Merlin, for once, don't make this difficult," Arthur cut, almost exasperated.

The brunet still put a bit of fight for several times, but after a moment, his strength waned out and Arthur could finally sit him sideway and rip his shirt open, revealing the ugly wound. Blood was still seeping slowly out of the wound, flowing down the brunet's back. It was high enough on his back that Arthur was sure it must have missed his lungs, and it looked like his shoulder blade was left unscathed too, but it looked like it still nicked a big blood vessel that he was losing a lot more of blood than he should have.

Arthur took out his water skin, pulling the stopper off with his teeth, and pour water on Merlin's wound to clean it before ripping a portion of cloth off his cape to make a bandage. The brunet hadn't stopped shivering, though; a portion of the poison had already entered his body, there was nothing he could do but to take him as fast as they could to Gaius.

When he was finished with the wound, Arthur sighed shakily. He didn't know anything about poison, or human body for that matter; Merlin had always been the one who helped him in situations like this. It didn't happen often, but with Merlin being comatose like that, Arthur had never felt so helpless.

He was holding Merlin and was about to rest him against the tree once more, intending to talk to his knights for a moment to discuss the safest and fastest way to Camelot, when the ripped flap of his shirt fell down. Arthur thought it was another wound need dressing, there were other superficial bruises and scratches too on his chest, when he realized the dark splotches on Merlin's sternum weren't blood. It was mostly covered in dried blood, but he was sure he wasn't imagining it when he thought they said ' _two sides'._

Arthur looked away, embarrassed. It wasn't proper to look at someone else's Soulpoetry. And so, shaking his head to will his brain to forget what he just saw, Arthur took Merlin's jacket and gently draped it over the latter's chest.

:

 **A/N:** Alright, that's the end of chapter three! Sooo, what do you guys think? *gives you all my ridiculous impersonation of Merlin's adorable smile* Here's the first Soulpoetry revelation! Oops, did I say first? Of course I didn't, why would I imply there will be a second Soulpoetry revelation? Ahahahahah, okay I'll stop talking gibberish now XD. Thank you for those who reviewed, faved, and followed! It always makes my day to see your reviews and faves and follows! *sends virtual hugs and free chocolate cookies*

Reviews and constructive criticism are all welcomed! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

::

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

::

 _Chapter 4_

::

"Merlin!"

Merlin sprinted across the corridor and turned to Arthur's room, closing the double doors behind him. Thrusting he right hand forward, he panted, for good measure, " _Ne un clyse_!" **[1]**

The lock slid into place magically, leaving Merlin alone in the room.

In no time he began scouring every inch of the room, throwing out the contents of Arthur's drawers and cupboards. Gaius said the enchantment that was now taking hold of Arthur was magically linked to a precious stone or jewelry or any piece of fine accessories that Arthur might have worn these past few days. If he could destroy it, then the enchantment would break.

Which would prove to be a very laborious task, considering how many silvers and golds and other precious metals Arthur actually have.

Merlin pulled out every single drawer in the room and poured its content on the floor, sending papers, rings, fancy daggers, and adorned ceremonial pieces of armory skittering down the floor. Merlin ran his fingers over all of it, trying to feel any trace of magic. He couldn't exactly destroy every single one of them– Arthur would surely chop his head off the moment the enchantment break, and he didn't have time to destroy it all anyway.

None of the objects radiated magic.

There was a loud bang on the double doors, so loud that dust scattered up in the air from the hinges that were slowly cracking off the stone wall. Merlin continued to pull out more drawers and turn the contents of each cupboard inside out before a loud deafening sound of the double doors being ripped off its hinges rang on his ears. He managed to duck behind a table just in time, but even from where he was hiding he could still see the form of Arthur, standing on the opening, his shining blood red eyes magically found Merlin.

Merlin shakily got to his feet and staggered backward as Arthur marched ruthlessly towards his direction.

"Arthur, wake up," Merlin croaked, losing his voice to fear.

"Now, Merlin, no more running," the blonde before him hissed, his eyes burning with the reddest blood Merlin had ever seen. He smiled maliciously at Merlin, giving the latter an impression of a snake.

Merlin continued to stagger backward slowly. There was a slow ebbing in the air, tickling at his joints, emanating from the blonde, and Merlin knew the cursed stone was one of the accessories Arthur was wearing.

Arthur was advancing on him slowly, his eyes not leaving Merlin's, intimidating him, and Merlin used the moment to quietly sneak a vase.

Merlin mustered all of his strength to smack the vase hard against Arthur's temple, hoping the latter would topple down unconscious, but Arthur merely straightened his neck back with inhuman resilience and continued to march towards Merlin.

"Enough of this child's play," he hissed, pinning the brunet against the wall on the neck with the sheer strength of his grip. Merlin choked.

"Arthur, please," he wheezed, tears welling on his eyes as he began to panic. Arthur's grip was inhumanly strong and now he was pushing Merlin upwards that the brunet's feet left the ground, wheezing for air.

"Where is the Cup of Life?" Arthur barked, and there was an almost animalistic growl that laced his voice. He tightened his grip on Merlin's windpipe, causing the latter to claw helplessly at Arthur's arm.

His fingers caught at Arthur's steel vambrace. It was directly under his nose, fitted on Arthur's forearm, and Merlin couldn't see it properly without crossing his eyes at a painful angle, but he had cleaned it too many times in the past to know that its embossed dragon figure had a considerably large ruby for an eye.

He clawed it open, but when the steel left Arthur's arm and fell down to the stone floor, it rang hollowly without any magic.

"Arthur, you're not yourself," Merlin rasped, his attempts to remove Arthur's hand from his neck getting weaker and weaker as his strength began to wane out. Arthur's blood red eyes were boring into his eyes, and Merlin let out a quiet hopeless cry. He was growing desperate. He needed to save his best friend, he _must_ save him, but it would seem impossible with Arthur being very determined to kill him like that.

"I can kill you, right here, _right now_ –" Arthur began hissing, but in the midst of his panic, Merlin landed his eyes on the boar head decorating the wall directly above him.

No. _No, impossible–_

He couldn't use magic in front of the Crown Prince of Camelot, it would be suicide! It didn't matter if Arthur was being enchanted or he was merely trying to save himself from suffocating, if Arthur was still conscious in there somewhere, he would discover Merlin's magic–

Arthur's grip tightened and black spots started to invade his sight. Any second now he would lose his consciousness, if not die altogether; if he didn't do it now, he would just die in Arthur's hands.

" _Feall_!" **[2]**

Merlin just had enough strength to cause the boar head to fall on Arthur's form, landing squarely on his chest and trapping him on the floor with its tusks. He just hoped to the gods above that Arthur thought it was merely a stroke of luck that a wall decoration should land square on his person, or simply wouldn't remember it.

Arthur fell, the back of his head hitting the ground hard enough to send someone into comatose, but he merely groaned and shook the butterflies out of his head. Merlin himself almost toppled down to his sides as soon as Arthur's hand left his throat, coughing and gasping for air, burning his throat as he did so. He barely had the time to cushion his fall with his arm. Falling on his sides, Merlin continued coughing.

Arthur groaned and moved weakly under the weight of the boar head, pulling Merlin back to the present. He leapt to Arthur's arms and began stripping off all of the jewels on his person. His other vambrace, his dagger with an emerald adorning the hilt, the four rings that snaked around his four right fingers–

At first he thought it was merely ink– Arthur probably knocked a bottle of ink over his hand and forgot to wash under his rings– but then it read like something along the lines of ' _of the same_ _coi_ _n_ ', written in a handwriting so familiar to Merlin it could've been his own.

Merlin averted his eyes – _focus,_ they had to deal with a serious business here, he couldn't exactly busied himself over some trivia such as the inappropriateness of glimpsing the Soulpoetry of the Crown Prince of Camelot _, focus– but_ still threw the rings across the room where they joined the other jewelries.

Merlin brought out his hands and hoarsely yelled, " _Brecan_!" **[3]** There was an explosion, sending pieces of steel and precious stone across the room.

Another bang followed. The boar head that was pinning Arthur to the ground was now crashing against a cabinet, knocking over vases and splintering the wooden furniture itself. The enchantment still held; Arthur had single-handedly thrown it himself.

Merlin rolled to his feet and ran to the other side of the room, trying to put the table between them.

"Tell me where you hide the Cup of Life!" Arthur shouted. He drew a dagger from the pile of jewelries that Merlin had poured out of his drawers earlier, testing the sharpness of the blade as he fingered it.

"Arthur, you can fight it!" Merlin pleaded, his voice hoarse from Arthur's strangulation.

"Come on, I haven't got all day! Where did you hide it?" the blonde demanded.

Merlin landed his eyes on the shield hanging on the wall directly behind Arthur. " _Forp fleoge_!" **[4]**

The shield sailed through the air towards Arthur's head, but the blonde pivoted on his heels quick enough to face it and hissed, **"** _Healte_!" **[5]**

Merlin didn't miss how his eyes flashed bright red when he incanted it, nor how he smiled viciously at Merlin when the shield stopped midair. Merlin let out a hopeless breath as Arthur brought up his hand and motioned the shield to attack Merlin instead. " _Forgripe_!" **[6]**

Merlin just had enough time to duck out of the way, the shield collapsing into the poles of Arthur's four-poster bed. But on the next second, Arthur was already upon him, the cool blade of his dagger pressing on the brunet's throat.

Merlin pressed backward, but there was only wall.

"Arthur– Arthur, please," he pleaded, his vision blurred with unshed tears. Why can't Arthur wake up? He needed to save his best friend, but he failed him. He failed his destiny. He was supposed to protect Arthur from things like this happening in the first place. _What use did his powers have if he couldn't save his loved ones_ –

And then he felt it.

A constant pulsing in the air. Like a heartbeat, ebbing against his bones, sending uncomfortable ticklish sensation that felt like a badly-tuned musical instrument, coming from Arthur's chest. A necklace peeked from between the buttons of Arthur's shirt, a nondescript piece of gold that seemed to radiate its own pulse in rhythm with the blonde's own heartbeat. Merlin quietly sneaked his fingers towards it, hoping Arthur was standing too close to notice, and touched it.

Arthur's eyes flashed gold.

"Now, you can quit playing and tell me where you hid the Cup," Arthur hissed, pressing the blade, his eyes back like a swirling pool of blood, hovering just inches away from Merlin's face, "or you can die."

Merlin grabbed the eye of the necklace and tugged it off Arthur's neck until the chain broke.

Arthur fell limp, losing consciousness in less than a second, and the dagger fell off skittering to the floor. Merlin caught him in time as the blonde swayed forward, collapsing under his weight as he slid down the wall.

He then eyed the gold necklace on his palm before throwing it against the wall on the other side of the room. " _Swilte, gold beorþ_ _, onlucan min freond_!" **[7]**

The stone exploded, sending pieces of gold all across the room, followed by a gust of strong wind. Merlin brought up his free hand to shield his face. There was light from where the necklace hit the wall before it winked out, dying with the gust of wind.

Merlin panted, his legs bending in an uncomfortable angle as he held Arthur on the floor, but it didn't matter. Arthur was safe, it was all that mattered. That Arthur was lying with the front lower half of his body on the floor, and the upper half of it sprawled messily over Merlin's lanky figure that was now awkwardly leaning against the wall, was all that mattered. His face was buried in Merlin's chest and the latter could feel his breath changing from shallow to even, as though he was sleeping.

Merlin shakily breathed out in relief and sniveled, not realizing he was starting to cry. There were tears escaping his eyelids when the brunet closed his eyes, bowing his head down until his nose was grazing the top of Arthur's blonde hair. He gently put his arms around Arthur's back, enveloping him, and promised he would never let any harm come to his best friend again.

::

 **[1]** : Close! (Used by Merlin when he locked Grunhilda in the vaults beneath the castle in The Changeling.)

 **[2]** : Fall! (Used by Merlin when he commanded the ice cliff to fall in Arthur's Bane Part Two, but it literally translates to 'fall', so I deemed it fit for the situation.)

 **[3]** : Break! (This one is from an online translator hahaha.)

 **[4]** : Fly forth! (I think some of you guys are familiar with this one, it's featured numerous times in Merlin hahaha.)

 **[5]** : Halt! (Merlin used this when he stopped the dagger sailing towards him commanded by the goblin inside Gaius in The Goblin's Gold, but I don't know if this is also the form of the verb if it stands alone in a sentence.)

 **[6]** : Attack! (Merlin used this when he commanded a snake to attack Morgana's horse in The Castle of Fyrien, but again, I don't know if the standalone verb also takes this form.)

 **[7]** : Die violently, gold-borne, release my friend! (The ' _swilte, gold beorþ'_ bit is from The Gates of Avalon, when Merlin killed Aulfric. ' _Onlucan_ ' is used when Merlin tried to break the chains with which Morgause restrained him in The Tears of Uther Pendragon Part One. ' _Min_ ' means ' _my_ ' if my research is right, and ' _freond_ ' translates to singular ' _friend_ '.)

::

 **A/N:** Alright, that's the fourth chapter! Aaaahh, what do you guys think? I haven't written for a long time, I'm getting flabby in writing action scenes, aahh sorry! I'll try harder next time! Also I may enjoy writing Merlin cradling Arthur in his arms more than I enjoy writing the action scenes because I am decidedly too sappy ahahahah XD Also yes, not only Arthur has glimpsed Merlin's Soulpoetry without Merlin knowing, now Merlin has glimpsed Arthur's without the latter knowing. Hahahaha, sorry, I do love to make plot twists involving two very oblivious characters who are made for each other but needs to smacked on their heads for not realizing it XD But well, they were under stressful situations, they could've failed to remember tiny details like that, we couldn't exactly blame them. I can vouch for them, I've experienced it, lol XD

Thank you for those who have reviewed, faved, and followed! Really, my heart flutters every time I get notifications for a new review or fave or follow. You all know how to make my day!


	5. Chapter 4,5

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

:

 _Chapter 4.5_

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy. _I Am Complex_ belongs to Reannah Loera.

 **Fore A/N** : Hi guys! So the fifth chapter is supposed to be _the_ magic reveal chapter with a large time gap, but since most of you wanted to know what happened after Merlin got pierced by an arrow on the third chapter, wondered what happened if Arthur woke up and found he had lost his rings after the event in chapter four, and was generally confused about the time gap, I give you chapter four point five, the explanation of it all! (Don't worry, the magic reveal chapter will come directly after this one!) Fair warning though– here comes a lot of Merthur feels.

Also, I'm really sorry I haven't updated for weeks! This chapter is not part of my original plan, so I have to write it up, and I almost didn't have the time with my insane schedule and me falling sick twice :( Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter five!

:

Even the Court Physician, one of the two most knowledgeable people in the whole Camelot, couldn't possibly explain the mystery of Soulpoetries.

An inscription that represented one's very soul, etched on the part of their body that figuratively or quite literally referred to something that was closest to their heart. A trace of darkened skin that looked like dried blood but had no history of injury at all and no possible cause that could make such intricate writings. But most of all, an inscription that could complete another Soulpoetry.

Gaius subconsciously reached to touch the inside of his lower arm, on which, under his tunic, was inscribed ' _my past_ ' in a feminine penmanship, its ink already fading with age. He knew out there a certain woman was brewing a potion, probably inside a small house she said she'd always wanted, on which front porch she would build a small stall to sell her potions, her fingers worn with age and on the same exact place on her lower arm a ' _does not define me'_ inscription was written in his own penmanship.

Changing the cloth on Arthur's feverish forehead and adjusted his sitting position, Gaius sighed.

The little young prince was sick today. The blonde, being a young nine years old boy, got involved in some childish immature games that ended with him eating things he shouldn't have eaten, and it fell to Gaius to patiently wait for the young prince's fever to break.

Arthur groaned in his sleep, his brow furrowed in pained as though the inside of his skull was pressing from within.

"It's alright, it's alright," Gaius shushed him gently, turning the cloth to the cold side to reduce his fever.

His eyes travelled to the Prince's right hand, where, under the four rings, was a messy writing that said ' _of the same coin_.'

Gaius knew it wasn't proper to see someone else's Soulpoetry, but being a Court Physician, some things were bound to be made into exceptions. He practically knew the Soulpoetries of each and every single court members that had ever come to his chamber.

He knew that the late Queen had a ' _my innocence_ ' scrabble on the back of her waist, on which she leaned weakly on, baby Arthur cradled in her arms, before she died. As he did know that her reigning husband had an inscription of ' _is not ignorance_ ' on the back of his hand, hidden from the world by his favorite pair of leather gloves. As he did know the King's ward had a ' _masks a storm_ ' on the back of her neck, hidden underneath her beautiful locks. As he did know the Soulpoetries of each and every Knights that had ever come to his chamber, chainmail tattered and torsos bloodied; each and every kitchen maid that had ever come for his help, face blue from hitting and lips pale from lack of sleep; each and every court members, with their nightmares and old battle wounds and fevers and cloudy sights.

Yet he never knew what made these things tick.

Gaius sighed and wiped the sweat that was forming on Arthur's forehead. He knew some things he must leave for Fate herself to manage.

:

Gaius found out about Merlin's Soulpoetry on the night the warlock took a risk of drinking off the poisoned chalice from Nimueh. Arthur had already gone out the second Gaius told him how to find the antidote to the poison, and it was just him and Gwen. Merlin was already sweating through his shirt and Camelot ceremonial vest and they were trying to take the vest off to prevent the fever from wreaking havoc when Gaius saw it.

A beautiful, almost royal, inscription of _'two sides'_.

 _Two sides_ – Merlin's magic.

Gwen wasn't looking, already climbing up to the warlock's bedroom to fetch some clean night shirt, and Gaius took this chance to seize the nearest salve and spread it across the brunet's sternum, hiding the inscription.

"Oh dear, is there a wound?" Gwen asked upon coming back, eyes widening in panic as her eyes fell on the salve that was spread right in the middle of the brunet's chest.

"Oh– no, no, it was for…" Gaius paused, thinking, and went with the first thing that crossed his head. "Breathing. The poison tried to constrict his throat, breathing this salve will help relieve it."

Two nights passed and Arthur came back the next morning. After quite an eventful day that nearly took the life out of him—of the time he had to patiently wait for Gwen to retrieve the morteaus flower from Arthur in the cellar, of having to perform magic for the very first time in twenty years, and of his heart missing a beat when Merlin failed to wake up directly after ingesting the potion—he sat across Merlin on the dining table that evening, eyeing the poor lanky boy stuffing too much bread in one bite.

Gaius' eyes fell to the warlock's blue shirt, laces tied and currently not revealing his Soulpoetry.

"Merlin?"

Merlin hummed a reply with bread still in his mouth. "Hmm?"

Gaius sighed. "I– I never intend to, but since it's happened, I'm thinking it's only fair that I should tell you."

Swallowing a mouthful of bread, the brunet looked up, his expression unguarded and childlike as he wondered what had happened that Gaius had to tell him about. "What happened?"

Gaius' gaze on the young warlock didn't waver.

"I saw your Soulpoetry."

Merlin looked up and widened his eyes, his pupil dilating in panic as his free hand slowly crept up to cover the exact spot where his Soulpoetry was. He froze like a cornered deer, ready to leap and run. For a moment, it truly hit Gaius how young and vulnerable Merlin was for a great warlock he was destined to.

So Gaius added, with a determined gaze, "I will guard the secret with my life."

:

The first moment Gaius took the scene in—Merlin carried in bridal style by Arthur into his chamber, his shirt crimson with dry blood—his heart nearly failed.

"What happened?" he asked, signaling for Arthur to put the lanky boy over the cot.

"He got pierced by an arrow," the Prince explained, sounding desperate himself. "I think it's poisoned."

Telling Arthur to put Merlin on his stomach, Gaius proceeded to peel off the flap of Merlin's ripped shirt, revealing a blood-soaked cloth wrapped around his shoulder that Gaius knew came from the fine material of the knight's cape.

"Who dressed his wound?"

Arthur gave the answer Gaius feared. "I did."

Something tugged on a string on Gaius' heart. Arthur wasn't an idiot– he saw Merlin's Soulpoetry, and Gaius knew he understood what he saw.

For two whole days, Gaius never dared to leave Merlin's side for more than the hours it took to attend to the King. When he needed to help the King, he only trusted Gwen to look after the young warlock, but then he still insisted that she should call for him immediately should anything happen.

Merlin woke up on the third day.

When Arthur showed up on the doorstep that morning, like he always had for two previous mornings, he wasn't dressed in his royal garment with guards standing behind him, ready to take Merlin out for execution like Gaius had feared. Instead, he was wearing the shirt from last night, his hair sticking up on one side as though he had fallen asleep on the table, and a wide grin etched on his face that made his face looked like it shone.

There were tears on his eyes. "You're alive!"

:

Something burned on the inside of his lower arm when he gathered Alice in his arms. Later that night, Gaius realized his Soulpoetry had bloomed back to how it looked like on the night they vowed, twenty years ago– jet black with a hint of blue, its edges clear and unblurred.

 _My past._

:

Gaius gasped as he took in the true extent of what truly had possessed Arthur.

The Prince's chamber was in complete disarray. The floor was strewn with precious jewels and scrolls, several cabinets and one of the poles of the Prince's four poster bed were destroyed into splinters, and the boar head was lying with its tusks impaling the floor. On the far side of the wall, Gaius saw Merlin, looking utterly drained from magic as he held an unconscious Arthur on his lap.

Shaking the fearful thoughts away—of Merlin having to use magic to fight Arthur, and of the fear of Arthur finding out about Merlin's magic—Gaius quickly approached the weak warlock and helped him hoist Arthur up.

They laid Arthur on the cot in Gaius' chamber and Merlin fell asleep on the chair by his side that night.

Gaius was about to usher the brunet back to his room upstairs to get some proper rest when he realized Merlin had fallen asleep on the chair next to the cot where Arthur was lying. The warlock laid his head on a small space next to Arthur's thigh, his right hand folded under his forehead as a pillow and his left hand resting on the small space next to it, mere inches from the Prince's own hand.

Gaius was about to avert his eyes, feeling like he was intruding a private moment, when he realized the four rings on Arthur's fingers were missing.

Then everything slid into place.

Merlin, pale and shivering in Arthur's arms, carried in bridal style into Gaius' chamber, his wound already bandaged by Arthur who had unmistakingly seen his Soulpoetry.

Arthur, unconscious under the enchantment that was taking hold of him, stripped off of his rings by Merlin who thought the enchantment came from his four rings.

 _Two sides of the same coin._

Smiling to himself, Gaius then let out a soft chuckle. _Of course_ Merlin and Arthur were soulmates– how could he be so blind? He considered leaving the two youths to themselves when he decided that they needed to discover and understand their own destinies on their own time. Not after being possessed or being forced to display his their magic in front of the other, not because one of them had magic and the other was a Crown Prince, but because their souls hinged perfectly in all their flaws and scars. Because they loved each other.

And so Gaius walked over to his cabinet and opened one of the drawers where Arthur had asked him to keep several of his spare rings. He took four of them and put them on the blonde's fingers before leaving them to rest, silently praying that it wouldn't take them too long to realize that they were destined to be by each other's side

:

Arthur woke up the next day.

Gaius and Merlin were looking at him with relieved yet panicked eyes, fearful that Arthur remembered witnessing Merlin's magic.

Arthur proceeded to ask about what had happened, and although it was true that Merlin could sometimes come up with the most ridiculous explanation to lie his way from revealing his magic, Gaius let out a relieved sigh when Arthur called the warlock in front of him an idiot.

Merlin merely laughed, his eyes glassy from happy tears.

:

 **A/N:** Alright, that concludes the end of the fifth chapter! What do you guys think? Hahahaha, Arthur doesn't remember because, yeah, I figured it would be too early that way. Once again, sorry for the time jumps! I'm starting to think it's part of my writing style, because most of my writings indeed involves time gaps ahahahahahh, please bear with me!

Gaius, Alice, Uther, Ygraine, and Morgana's Soulpoetries are all from Reannah Loera's poem that won 2015 Rossford Record's YA Poetry contest, "I Am Complex". You may have seen it being made into photosets in tumblr with captions " _my past doesn't define me, my strength is an illusion, my calm masks a storm, my innocence is not ignorance._ " I personally love this poem– I can never make things as beautiful as this in my seventh grade, but Reannah, a seventh grader at the time, if I'm not mistaken, can! (I originally wanted to use Beowulf's lines but it's all about war and bloodbath battles and I couldn't think of anything ahahahahah XD)

Review and constructive criticism are all welcomed! (Psst, the next chapter is the magic reveal!)


	6. Chapter 5

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy. As I promised: one long emotional magic reveal ahead!

:

 _Chapter 5_

:

Merlin woke up to the dripping cold raindrop against his cheeks.

Jolting, he straightened up and immediately regretted it as he grunted to the searing pain on his right foot. He was lying on a stone floor with his legs bent at a very uncomfortable angle. Next to him was a wall and directly above him was a barred opening.

He twisted his body to take a look at the source of his pain, hurting some part of his body as it looked like he had been badly bruised all over his person, and gasped weakly as he saw how his ankle was now bending at an awkward angle. He was reaching to feel it when he heard a rustle on the other side of the cavity he was in.

"Hello?" he called out. His voice almost didn't make an echo, making him think that he was being trapped in some sort of a small space.

It was too dark for Merlin to distinguish any shape. The moon should be at its full form tonight, if they hadn't passed out for more than a day, but the rain had obscured most of its light. His eyes hadn't gotten used to the darkness yet, so he had to squint his eyes and brought out his arms to feel his surroundings.

"Arthur?" he asked, unsure.

There was a moment of pause and a low grunt before he heard a reply a few feet from him, "Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin let out a relieved sigh. At least they were together. That was good, Arthur was safe. "I think I broke my ankle, but I'm fine. Are you hurt?"

Merlin felt the smooth walls behind him and tried to get up on his good foot, only to slide down again, hurting his broken ankle in the process. He winced loudly. He didn't know broken ankles could hurt this bad, for a damage on such a small part of one's body; he couldn't even move. No wonder Arthur was impossibly firm on emphasizing the importance of a good footing during his trainings.

His eyes began to get used to the darkness. They were in some kind of a well, almost a perfect square in shape, but its stone walls were too smooth to scale. The cavity looked like a dungeon with no escape, aside from the opening above their heads. Its four walls were also wide enough that it was impossible to climb them by using pressure on the two opposite walls with their legs. Not that either of it was possible because it was drizzling out there– there was nothing that could purchase a hold on the wet stones. And even if they could climb it to the top, the opening was still barred with what looked like considerably thick iron bars.

"Dislocated shoulder– can you fix it?" Arthur groaned from the other side of the well.

"Wait a minute," he grunted, trying to move. Arthur dislocated his shoulder often enough during his trainings and it always fell on Merlin to pop the bone back to its socket, so he could do it easily. They would need Arthur to be fully physically functional if they wanted to get out of this well alive. If only he could move to where Arthur was to do it.

"No, you stay there," Arthur suddenly interrupted. Merlin looked up to see the blonde's figure moving towards him before sitting with his back on him, his free arm cradling the one from his dislocated shoulder. "Alright, fix it."

"It's going to hurt a bit, alright," he warned, launching into his usual speech and prompting the blonde to sigh.

"Just get it over with."

Pursing his lips, Merlin felt for Arthur's shoulder and upper arm. They might have embarked on the most insane of quests, but fixing Arthur's dislocated shoulder in near total darkness was yet another new thing for them. Merlin began counting. "One."

He snapped Arthur's shoulder back to place and the latter cried in pain. The resonance gave Merlin a slight sense of the room's volume.

"Is it back?" Merlin asked.

Arthur was panting, pained. "Yeah." He then got up, trying his shoulder as he did so. "Can you stand?"

Merlin wasn't sure. "Uhm, I guess," he answered in something that sounded more like a question.

The drizzle hadn't stopped since, the walls were ever more slippery now, and when Merlin tried to stand using his good foot and the wall behind him, he did but slid down the wall again. As he fell on his backside and heard a slight splash, raindrops seeped into his pants as a realization dawned on him. The cavity they were in was closed, the raindrops hadn't gotten anywhere. There was no drainage, no soil, no opening that led straight to the ground– nothing. If the rain didn't stop, sooner or later they would drown.

Merlin grunted, wincing loudly as he hurt his broken ankle even more. He then felt Arthur's two hands on his upper arms, supporting him.

"Whoa– slowly, slowly," Arthur said gently. Accepting the help, Merlin reached out to hold on Arthur's arms as he pulled himself up. They both winced– Merlin from trying to get up on his broken ankle and Arthur on pulling Merlin up on his wounded shoulder.

"Alright?" Arthur asked, sounding just a few inches from Merlin, his hands still holding on Merlin's upper arms in case he toppled back down.

"Yes," the brunet breathed. His wince dissipated as he shifted his weight on his good foot and leaned on the wall behind him. Arthur then let go of him and began pacing the entire space, trying to find a way out.

Merlin didn't understand, though. He and Arthur were supposed to travel back to Camelot with the other knights after a diplomatic meeting in Mercia before they got ambushed and the two of them got separated from the rest of the party. They were outnumbered one to five, and they had no choice but to flee. They barely got out of the fight alive and the sight of Arthur in agony of having to leave his comrades behind pained Merlin. They rode all night blindly to a direction they didn't even know, and from there it was just him and Arthur trying to find their way back to Camelot. When they got captured as they crossed the river that marked the border between Camelot and Assetir, it was impossible to think of a scenario that they were intercepted. They didn't know where they were going themselves– to think that someone knew they would be there was incredulous.

And yet the fact that they got captured and were thrown into a well-fashioned dungeon with thick iron bars on top of it suggested that this was no amateur work. This was not a work of a band of renegades or a bandit party who took people for their gold.

"Arthur, we have to get out of here," Merlin said, although more to himself than to anyone.

Arthur had been circling the well for numerous times, running his palms all over every reachable surface of the walls and swinging his sword at the iron bars above, before he stopped and sighed dramatically, as though terribly annoyed by the brunet's question.

"Well explained, Merlin. I have no intention of sitting here all night either," the blonde replied sarcastically before kicking the stone wall. "It's no use! The walls are too wide apart to scale."

They were silent for a moment, the sound of the rain the only thing audible. Merlin looked up to see the cloud had moved slightly, allowing a portion of moonlight to fall on them. With his eyes already gotten used to the darkness, he could see how the right abdomen side of Arthur's chainmail was ripped, revealing his tattered vest underneath, and there was a large ugly bruise on his right cheek. Something twisted in a small on his gut at the sight of Arthur hurt, at the fact that the blonde remained stoic when Merlin knew he was badly wounded. He had promised not to let Arthur got hurt again, _he promised._

Merlin shook his head, trying to focus. The raindrops had pooled and reached their ankle. Merlin tried not to notice how the coldness stung at his broken ankle.

"What do we do?" the brunet asked tentatively.

Arthur continued to be silent before answering at last, sheathing his sword. "There's only one way."

"What?"

Arthur turned to look at him, his face an unreadable expression between pain and authority. "It'll hurt."

"When does it not when it comes to you?" Merlin muttered under his breath. Whether the blonde heard or chose to ignore his comment Merlin didn't know, but Arthur approached him.

"I'm going to lift you. Check if the bars are hacked," he said.

Well, not a good decision for his broken ankle, but they had no other option.

"Alright," Merlin said, nodding. When he looked at Arthur, the latter was looking into his eyes, and Merlin knew instantly Arthur didn't want to hurt him either. Blue bore into blue before Arthur lowered down to gather Merlin in his arms at the knees. He heard Arthur winced as his shoulder complained, and Merlin bit back a loud gasp as the pain from his leg shot up.

When Arthur had rose to his full height, Merlin still couldn't get a full grip on the iron bars, but it was enough to tell him that the iron bars wouldn't be going anywhere even if he combined his strength with Arthur's to move it.

"How hard are the bars?" Arthur shouted from below him.

"It won't budge!" Merlin replied.

Arthur then lowered him to the ground carefully so as to not hurt his broken ankle even more, before pounding at the wall with his good arm in anger.

"Oh bother, who did this? Hey! We're drowning in here!" Arthur shouted, his voice echoing around the small cavity.

"Arthur–" Merlin began, but the blonde wouldn't stop shouting.

"Why bother capturing us alive if you're just going to drown us?!"

"Arthur, stop it–" Merlin interrupted as he that the water had come up to their calves. The walls of the well they were in were wide enough apart that even Arthur knew they couldn't scale it up by using pressure on the opposite walls– it was simply unnatural that the pooling raindrops had come up from their ankles to their calves in such a short period of time.

Merlin dipped his fingertips on the pooling water and closed his eyes. When the raindrops had fallen on his face and his whole person, he hadn't been able to feel it, but now that it had pooled down around his feet, he could finally feel it.

The accumulating amount of magic.

"I am the Crown Prince of Camelot, you will have the whole Camelot to answer to if something happens to me!"

His eyes shot open.

"Arthur, don't shout–! It's Morgana!" Merlin shushed him.

Arthur looked like he was about to shout again before he turned to Merlin, perplexed. "What?"

"It's Morgana. It makes sense!" Merlin said, mentally hitting his forehead. Of course it made sense– why didn't he think of it sooner? There was only one possibility to explain someone knowing how the two of them would be there in that particular time and place even without them knowing themselves.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"She's a High Priestess of the Old Religion," Merlin explained, "we don't even know where we were going but she managed to capture us, because she knew where we would be. She's a Seer."

Arthur looked like he was about to buy Merlin's explanation before he shook his head.

"No, if this is Morgana's doing, we'd already be dead," he muttered, already turning back to inspecting the walls.

The drizzle thickened to a rain. Both of them was already soaking wet, the chilly night air hadn't helped, and Merlin was running out of ideas of how to show Arthur this was the High Priestess's doing that didn't involve telling that impossible prat that he was able to sense magic from the pooling raindrops.

"Who else know where we were, then?" Merlin questioned back.

"This is just a renegade's doing," Arthur replied. "They saw us crossing the river, they took their chance."

"And trap us in a fancy barred well?" Merlin challenged, but Arthur already ignored him.

"We have to get them to get us out," Arthur said, before he continued shouting. "Hey, answer me! You swine– answer me!"

Merlin flinched– it was rather disconcerting to see Arthur using offensive language.

"Arthur…" Merlin began.

"Come on, answer me!" Arthur yelled, his voice echoing around the space around them and pressed on Merlin's eardrums. "Or are you all filthy cowards?"

Merlin gasped in panic as he lowered his eyes and found out the pooling water had already come up to their knees. It was simply unnatural. Arthur might refuse to see how it all suggested of magic, but it still remained that it all could only be fought by magic too. They had proved it themselves that they couldn't get out of the well by themselves. So the other alternatives would be letting Arthur shout with all his might to get those non-existent renegades to free them or he could get Arthur's attention and coaxed him into–

Merlin's heart pounded faster and almost burst out. He realized there really was no other way than to use magic to get them out of there alive before they drowned.

"Arthur–"

His name suddenly tasted strange on his mouth. Fear glued on his tongue and constricted his windpipe. The fact that he had no other option than to use magic in front of Arthur was playing on loop in his head, dizzying him. Suddenly, all the pain from the wounds on his person and his blasted broken ankle was nothing compared to the pain of losing Arthur. Losing his faith, losing his friendship. The pain of having to look Arthur in the eye and found his blue eyes shone with the deepest hatred towards the brunet, with betrayal, with disgust. Arthur would probably run his sword through his being immediately after he found out Merlin had magic, but Merlin knew the sword wouldn't inflict as much pain as the betrayal in Arthur's eyes that would be the last thing he would ever see.

"Blasted walls!" Arthur swore, kicking the wall opposite him.

He had no choice, _he had no choice_. It was impressive that his heart still managed to pound even faster. He was frantically trying to get a hold on the slippery wall behind him with his trembling fingers. Inhaling a shaky breath, Merlin mustered all of his strength to will his voice not to shake as called out to Arthur once more.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned back at him, annoyed. "What is it?!"

Merlin flinched and actually expelled a tear from his eyes– it was fortunate that raindrops kept pelting against their bodies, masking his tears.

"I will get us out of here, I promise," Merlin said, his voice sounding strange as he willed himself not to cry.

Arthur actually rolled his eyes and turned his back on him. "I really appreciate your faith, Merlin, but right now is not the time."

He really wasn't making it easier for Merlin, was he? Merlin was growing desperate.

Shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth, Merlin exclaimed in despair, "Arthur, look at me!"

Arthur must've noticed the drastic change in Merlin's intonation, because he turned back, his eyes softening. He genuinely looked confused now, if not concerned about Merlin. "What?"

Merlin took a large gulp of air, swallowing back a sob that was building on the back of his throat. The pooling freezing water had come up to their upper thighs now, but Merlin barely noticed his broken ankle anymore. He steeled his nerves with a thought– he would die either way. If he refused to use magic to get them out, there was every chance both of them drowning in the pooling water. But if he used magic– Arthur might despise him, loathe him, send him into exile, or even kill him there and then, but Arthur would live.

There was no question which option Merlin would go for, no matter how painful. He had promised, _he had promised._

"Arthur," Merlin began, gulping and stammering. "I–I can get us out of here alive. B-but– but you have to promise you won't– you won't see me in a different light–"

If Arthur was unsure of Merlin's internal conflict, Merlin knew he was sure of it now. He could barely maintain a steady voice. The blonde was approaching him slowly, gently, as though he was a scared wounded animal, his right hand a little bit outstretched.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked gently.

Why wasn't Arthur making it easier for Merlin? He knew that pompous prat would turn to loathe him any second now, he really didn't need this sudden display of care to remind him what he really would lose once Arthur found out he had magic. It would be far easier if Arthur could just start regarding him coldly and not remind Merlin how Arthur's eyes would always soften every time the latter sensed the brunet's troubled mind, and how he truly, in his heart, cared for Merlin's well-being even though he was just a servant. He would lose all of it.

Merlin was shaking. He was scared.

"Just promise me!" Merlin exclaimed shakily, panic taking control of him.

Arthur must've beginning to put the pieces together. He stopped in his track, no longer approaching the brunet. Merlin noticed how his hand fell limp to his side, splashing the water that had come up to their waist.

"What do you mean, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

Looking down, Merlin inhaled a deep breath and found his voice.

"Arthur, what you are about to witness will shake you," he said, "but you know I will never hurt you, I will never harm you. It is my destiny to be by your side, protecting you."

He exhaled. This was it. Arthur could hate him or kill him, but he would do everything to keep him safe. When he looked up, Arthur looked like he had, deep down, come to the conclusion Merlin was trying to tell him, but refused to believe so. It pained Merlin more than anything.

"Merlin?" the blonde breathed out, his voice almost got completely swallowed by the rain that was now turning into a storm. The well was filling up faster than ever.

Merlin brought out his right hand towards the iron bars above them and yelled, " _Tospringe!_ " **[1]**

The hinges around iron bars exploded and the entire door shot up from the sheer force of Merlin's magic, sending pieces of broken irons and stones falling around them. There was a distant low thud as the iron door fell somewhere far, followed by the most deafening silence Merlin had ever endured.

The sound of the storming rain around them faded out as the silence and the cold stare from Arthur's eyes pressed all around him, suffocating him. He couldn't move, didn't know how to move. The few feet distance between them felt so far and so near at the same time, and Merlin didn't know whether to run to him and tell him the whole truth–of the true purpose of his magic, of their intertwined destinies, of uniting Albion together, and of how Merlin never once ceased to regard Arthur as less than a friend even though he persecuted his kind– or to run from him and the painful look of betrayal in his eyes. Every memory–every laughter, every fight, every battles they've fought together side by side, protecting each other with their lives, Arthur's every boyish barking laugh, every single one of his own smiles– flashed before his eyes before winking out like a candle that had burned itself out.

He inhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes, expelling teardrops, not even hiding his emotions anymore.

"You're a sorcerer," Arthur breathed out, but it filled his eardrums and pounded from the inside of his skull. A painful accusation, a final sentence to the end of their friendship. He stepped back away from the young warlock slowly, his movement creating an ebbing wave that seemed to crash at Merlin's lanky figure.

But Merlin steeled himself. He was not finished yet, he had to get Arthur out of there.

He honestly just realized of that one little detail. Having to tell Arthur of his magic had consumed all of his thought that this little detail had become nothing in the face of the daunting fact that he had to reveal himself.

"Arthur, we have to get out of here, we're drowning–" Merlin started, but Arthur wasn't listening. .

"You're a sorcerer–" Arthur panted, his breath heavy. "How could you–"

Merlin was desperate. He needed to get Arthur out, but it was looking more and more impossible to get Arthur to think clear by the seconds. "I'm so sorry, Arthur, I really am, but I can't tell you–"

"You practice magic–" the young prince hissed.

Merlin flinched at the Prince's accusation, although it was nothing but the truth. "I never practice evil sorcery, Arthur, all of it I've done to protect you–" Merlin begged, prompting the blonde to look at him and narrow his eyes.

"You've done this before?" Arthur cut, throwing the warlock off-guard.

"I– yes, but–"

Merlin saw how Arthur waded his way away from him, the ebbing water crashing against him sending thousands of invisible knives through his being. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Merlin. "Get away from me!"

Merlin shut his eyes and let his teardrops fall before he brought up his hands to his eyes, willing himself to concentrate. His lungs were collapsing under the weight of the pain in his heart, and he felt like his head would explode from the freezing temperature and a thousand memories flashing before his eyes in a whirlwind, but they had no time for this– he had to get Arthur out as fast as he could. When he opened his eyes, he realized the pooling water had come to their stomach.

"Arthur please, you're drowning!" the warlock begged.

Arthur's sword wobbled, and Merlin noticed how he was constantly readjusting his grip on the handle as though he was having a hard time having to force himself to point his sword at his manservant. His pupils widened like a cornered wounded deer, and his voice shook when he said, "then I will drown."

Merlin let out a shaky breath, his breathing heaving with panic and the exhausting attempt to shove away all the hurt he was feeling. "I can get you out of here–"

"Why should I trust you?" Arthur scoffed.

"I've always been there for you, haven't I?" Merlin pleaded. "I've never hurt you, I'd _never_ hurt you–"

Arthur was shouting now, although he almost sounded as vulnerable as Merlin. "You _lied_ to me! I can't trust you!"

The storm continued and the well was filling up impossibly fast. The cloud moved and blocked the moonlight, leaving them in near total darkness, the remaining trace of light glinting on the surface of Arthur's sword and chainmail.

"I– I'm– I'm sorry, but you have to believe me–"

"How can I trust you–"

"I've blasted the bars so you can get out!" the brunet exclaimed in despair. "Please, Arthur, I beg you, you have to believe me–"

Arthur seemed like he, too, had trouble breathing. "No, no–"

Merlin sniveled, breathing in several raindrops that were flowing down his face that made him choke. There was only one way, and Merlin hated it. Arthur had to lift him up first.

"Arthur, I need you to lift me. My ankle is broken–"

As Merlin had predicted, Arthur seemed to take this as a sign that Merlin wanted to escape and leave him here to die, because his voice was firm when he refused to comply. "No. No–"

"–I won't be able to lift you, but you can. You have to lift me–"

"So you can leave me here to die?" the blonde shouted derisively, hissing. Merlin flinched, pained that Arthur would think so meanly of him that he would let him die.

"I will never let you die, Arthur! I will lay down my own life to protect you!"

"You've lied to me all along!" Arthur shouted.

The storm kept raging on above them and the pooling water had come up to their chests. They were soaking wet and Arthur's fringes was slick on his forehead from the rain but when Merlin looked up and met his eyes, he knew that they were both crying.

Merlin's shoulder sagged down and, for a moment, he let himself to just breathe. He felt a lumping sob forming in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it back. He had to calm down, think rationally, and get Arthur out. It was all that mattered now.

"You have to lift me," he reiterated. "Once I climbed out, I'll get something to pull you up."

Arthur still wouldn't listen. "No!"

Merlin didn't know what came to him, but he found himself making his way towards Arthur, his right hand scaling the wall beside him to reduce the weight on his broken ankle, until the tip of Arthur's sword was touching his stomach. He could shout at Arthur and beg for him to see sense until the water came up to their heads but this, maybe this would show Arthur that he wasn't afraid to die for him, that he would really lay down his own life to save him. With his left hand, he grabbed the cool flat surface of Arthur's sword and set it right on his abdomen, keeping it in place. He looked down, the sword was glinting underwater.

When he looked up, Arthur widened his eyes and Merlin felt the blonde pulling the sword away from the warlock's stomach.

"Arthur…" Merlin started, his name coming out as nothing more than a whisper. "Arthur, you have a good heart."

Arthur looked like he was still in shock and something in Merlin just wanted to hold the blonde's hands and tell him that it would be alright, that he would live. But he proceeded.

"I can't tell you to do anything, but I have _never_ doubted your heart," he continued.

Silence pressed around them despite the raging storm. Merlin looked straight into Arthur's eyes.

He remembered Arthur, young and inexperienced, fresh from his father's teachings that magic was evil, but decided to smuggle Mordred out of Camelot. Arthur, coming to the Labyrinth of Gedref because he couldn't stand the suffering of his people. Arthur, coming to Ealdor to help him even though he was nothing but a serving boy and his village was outside the kingdom's jurisdiction. He remembered waking up from the poison from Nimueh's chalice, all because Arthur put his life in danger to retrieve the morteaus flower.

"I can only ask you to do what you believe to be right."

Merlin closed his eyes– this was it.

The water had come up to their shoulders. Arthur could run him down right now, and it would all be over.

It would all be over now.

And then his eyes shot open. Merlin felt the sword he was holding by his left hand being pulled away from him. Arthur was nowhere to be seen and before he knew it, someone had gathered his legs and pushed him upwards. Arthur was lifting him.

Pain shot from his broken ankle, but Merlin barely felt it. He still wasn't high enough to reach anything that could pull him upwards. The edge of the well was slippery– he couldn't get a hold of anything–

" _Feorhberendum fultume me!_ " **[2]**

At first he couldn't feel it. The rain was tainted by too much dark magic from Morgana. The ground above him felt like a rolling endless opening of lifeless graveyard; no life, until–

He felt it. A tree– he called out at it, and he felt one of its roots reaching out that them. He brought out his hand as far as he could, reaching back out, until finally–

He saw a protruding root slowly making its way towards him, snaking on the ground closer and closer, until Merlin could get a hold of it and pulled himself up. He wasn't the most athletic person in the kingdom, and he had difficulties pulling himself up, but he pushed himself. He needed to be fast, Arthur was drowning–

Rolling to his sides, Merlin quickly commanded the root to extend its length and pivoted back to face the well. He gasped when he found out that Arthur had disappeared under the water.

"Arthur!" he shouted on the top of his lungs, but was greeted back with the echo of his own voice followed with silence.

Merlin felt the air thinning as despair set over him.

"Arthur!"

 _No._ "Arthur!"

No, no. Arthur couldn't drown. He _must not_ die because Merlin wasn't quick enough–

"ARTHUR!"

And then a tug on the root. In less than a second, Merlin grabbed the other end of the root and pulled. Pulled, and pulled, and pulled until his wrists and fingers hurt.

Arthur's figure peeked from the edge of the well. He weighed himself up and collapsed on the ground beside Merlin, his hands still holding the root. On the other end of the root was Merlin's hands, lying on the ground just inches from Arthur's, his fingers hardened from strain on where it had been curling around the vine-like plant. Neither let go of it.

For a moment they just lied there, exhausted and panting, raindrops pelting against their faces.

:

[1]: Open quickly!(This is used in Merlin so many times and in several forms, I'm sure you are all familiar with it ahahahahah XD)

[2]: Living beings help me! (' _Feorhberendum'_ translates to plural _'living things'_ , if my research is right, and Merlin actually used _'fultume me'_ (meaning _'help me'_ ) when he asked for help from the water of Lake Avalon that the Fisher King gave him.

:

 **A/N:** Whooh, that one is so long! So that's the end of the sixth chapter! What do you guys think? Arthur finally found out Merlin had magic! I'm sorry if it doesn't turn out the way you wanted, in addition for being impossibly long, but I think this is how Arthur would've reacted. He is brought up being taught that magic is evil, and to finally find out that his most trusted friend is actually a sorcerer can prove to be too much for him to handle when they are under a crisis in which their lives hanged. But he will come to his senses, though, just give him time– he's not entirely that impossible. Also poor Merlin having to witness Arthur losing faith in him :( I almost cried writing him with all the hurt and anguish he had to endure. Aaaahhh, I just want to hug him and tell him everything will be alright! But oh well, it means that we only have two chapters to go and an epilogue! Also, for those who are waiting for Merlin and Arthur realizing they are Soulmates, don't worry, the moment will come! Reviews and constructive criticism are most welcomed! Also thank you for those who have reviewed, faved, and followed so far! To see little notifications from you guys always makes my day! *gives you all one big hug and a jar of chocolate cookies because I can't thank you all enough*


	7. Chapter 6

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

::

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

 **A/N:** OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN AGES! I'm really, really, sorry! Here you go, the sixth chapter!

::

 _Chapter 6_

::

It took two days for Merlin and Arthur to reach Camelot–limping and helping each other walk in unbearable silence. After the storm that nearly drowned them in the well, it was two of the driest days that Merlin had experienced, as though all the water in the land had disappeared entirely onto the ground.

But Merlin felt cold.

::

They met the rescue party on the second day. Aside from the facts that Arthur told his knights to give one of their horses for Merlin to ride and for them to help the brunet mount the stallion, there was no indication that the Prince of Camelot acknowledged his servant's presence.

When they reached the castle's paved front yard, Arthur dismounted his horse and proceeded to the throne room without looking back.

::

Merlin hid in his room for three whole days.

The first time Gaius entered his room with a bowl of porridge, Merlin sprung to his feet in an almost inhuman speed and thrust out his hand, ready to blast anyone who came near him. To say that the old Physician was startled was an understatement. Dropping the bowl to the floor, Gaius's heart nearly failed him to see Merlin almost attacking him before he realized what happened.

The young sorcerer was terrified.

Realizing what he had done, Merlin widened his eyes and gasped, falling to his feet to collect the shattered bowl. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Gaius– I'm– gods, sorry, I thought–"

The old Physician recovered from his shock in a rather impressive speed as he gained his sense back and lowered himself to the ground as quickly as his old backbone allowed. "No, Merlin, it is I who should apologize, I should've known better than to enter unannounced when you're in this condition–"

Merlin gave a watery chuckle that twisted something on the older man's gut. "I gave you a fright, Gaius, you should've seen yourself–"

"Nonsense, Merlin, your ankle hasn't healed yet–" Gaius said, before the young brunet cut him as he rose to reach a towel on the bedside table to mop the slick porridge.

"I'm fine–" the brunet answered with shaky breath, sinking to his feet to collect the porcelain pieces. Gaius didn't miss the way he bent his injured foot and held it aloft to reduce the pain.

"Merlin–" Gaius started, but his remarks fell on deaf ears.

"Gaius, I'm fine– I'm just– still in shock, probably–"

"Merlin!"

Merlin looked up from his crouched position, his pupil still dilated like a terrified deer and his hands stopped mopping. It was then that it struck Gaius, truly, how young the great warlock in front of him was. He might love Arthur with all his heart, but it didn't mean he wasn't afraid to die. So he told him that he understood– that it was alright.

"Of course it's not alright," the warlock argued, his voice failing as he breathed shakily. He closed his eyes and a tear streamed down his cheeks. He didn't wipe it.

::

Arthur didn't sleep on his bed for three whole days.

His back ached and he was tired for most of the day because of it, but he would still sit on his chair at nights for three days in a row until he fell asleep. Sometimes the wood in fireplace would crack, or the servants carrying sheets outside would cross his door too noisily, and Arthur would jolt awake, his hand flew to the handle of his sword in less than a fraction of a second and his eyes widened, with veins popping on its corners.

 _No sorcerer_ , he would tell himself breathlessly.

His father noticed his distress, which he decided must be obvious enough that his father came out of his helpless state to ask him if there was a princess out there who broke his heart.

Arthur laughed, careful not to sound too derisive in front of his father, but he walked back to his chamber that night thinking, if broken hearts were about broken trusts, then he supposed his father was right.

::

Arthur dreamt of drowning that night.

On the other side of the castle, Merlin gasped as he jolted awake, gulping as many air as his lungs could contain, as though he was drowning.

 _Breathe, breathe–_ Merlin told himself as he calmed himself, returning his quick pulse to the normal pace. He was a sorcerer, his kind was hunted across the five kingdoms. Nightmares were something he'd learned to deal with for a long time.

He gulped, calming himself down. The air was cold and the summer crickets had ceased to chirping. Moving to his sides, careful not to move his ankle too much, all the hinges on the brunet's body cracked all over. He had fallen asleep on a very uncomfortable position with his neck resting on his shoulder and his back sliding down the wall on his back.

He wasn't planning on sleeping. He hadn't for the past three days.

Rolling out of his tiny bed and finding out that his night shirt had been soaked with sweats, Merlin went to his cupboard where he put some of his plain nightshirts and prepared to change.

He was scared to death, ready to blast off anyone who came into his room, fearing it would be Arthur's guards ready to escort him to his death sentence. He nearly gave Gaius a heart failure for doing so. But here he was, standing in the middle of his room in the Court Physician's wings, like he had been doing at this exact hour for the past few years, not running from Arthur as anyone with a common sense would have done.

And so, looking down at his feet and narrowing his eyes at the truth he didn't dare to face, Merlin finally gave in to the voice that had been whispering to him at the back of his mind.

 _Because you don't want to go, either._

It frightened the young warlock how true the thought rang.

He had all the chance to escape Camelot. It wouldn't be difficult for him to do so– he knew every inch of the castle by heart, knew his way with trap doors and tapestry and every guard, and he was Emrys. But Arthur– his place was at Arthur's side. He had promised not to let any harm come to him ever again. Arthur was his best friend, his destiny, and, gods– that clotpole was his home.

He reached for his sternum and caressed his itchy night shirt, underneath which his Soulpoetry sat.

 _Two sides_.

He smiled ruefully as he remembered the first time he found out he had his Soulpoetry. He had called his mother from the turnips patches that summer, running through the muddy borders of the patches as quick as his tiny legs could manage. He might've made the memory up as he grew up, but he was quite sure it was the day after he learned that the bowl of porridge floating over him every morning didn't happen by chance.

That he had the power to command it. That he had magic.

Magic had been the part of him since the very beginning– he was nothing without it. He'd spent his life asking the higher powers what he had to do about it. He'd spent his late childhood struggling every day to hide who he really was, and his teenage years feeling more alone than ever because no one could ever come to understand how exhausting it was to wear a mask every time he had to come out of his cottage.

And then he arrived to Camelot and met Arthur, the most arrogant and impossible human being he had ever met. But then his magic was not so useless anymore.

At first, it was common sense. He had to save Arthur. What was the purpose of his magic if not to help those around him, even though it happened to be one of the most insufferable human being he'd ever met?

And so he did it. Again, and again, and again.

Until he realized that Kilgharrah was right– Arthur was indeed his destiny. Because over the course of his life on Arthur's side, something that he couldn't quite describe _fell into place_ – as though Arthur was the purpose of his magic he had asked for all his life.

The brunet put his palm on his sternum, feeling his heart beating underneath his thin ribs.

 _Two sides_.

He'd always have his two sides– him, and his magic. And this is where his magic belonged to. To Arthur's side, to Camelot, to the Albion he would help Arthur build. This was what he was born to do. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

::

Gwen noticed too.

Arthur was sitting on his chair in the council room, papers strewn in front of him, most of them not in the correct orders. He didn't usually eat breakfast there, unless his father summoned him, but the new stupid manservant they got to serve him hadn't gotten used to his routine yet and actually roused him late that day. Filling in as the Regent on behalf of his father's unavailability, he had several documents to read before he could send a reply to the neighboring kingdoms about several bargains they had, but none of the sentences seemed to make sense to him.

Pushing his breakfast in front of him with worried face and telling him to eat for the sake of his health, she asked him if he was getting any sleep, and if he had a fallout with Merlin.

Arthur stared at her the moment the question left her lips and found himself silently repeating the name.

It felt strange on his lips–he hadn't heard Merlin's name in days. He hadn't thought of it. He realized he had been referring to him as a sorcerer in his head for the last three days. For three whole days he was terrified he would be killed in his sleep, poisoned stealthily or attacked on his way through the corridors by a sorcerer who had been lurking behind the walls of Camelot for–

Three years.

Arthur stood from his seat slowly and exited the council room. He needed– he didn't know what he needed– but his feet were carrying him to the Court Physician's wings.

Three years. Merlin had tended to his wounds, prepared his foods, and tidied his bed for three years. Kept his swords, marched beside him in battles, told him which course of action to take during crisis. For three years, Merlin's face had always been the first face he saw when he woke up from a comatose.

Merlin had all the chance to kill him for three whole years. But the more he tried to find a proof to his argument, the more he realized that all Merlin had done was the exact opposite.

He was running, dodging around knights, guards, servants–

 _Merlin_.

It made sense now. All the oddities and all the disappearances, all the fortunate and otherwise impossible misses in battles he had that would've cost him his life. All the days he rode back to Camelot on horses, wondering why he was still alive. All the days he lied on his bed, waiting for certain death because Gaius said there was no antidote to the poison that was now circulating his body, or the times he half-dozed on the ground, a canopy of trees shading his eyes from sunlight as Merlin set him gently in a nice nook on a hidden spot in the woods because he had taken a poisoned arrow to his back and felt the heat slowly leaving his person. That night he failed to kill the Great Dragon, but he woke up and Merlin told him he defeated the beast. A wind, seemingly coming out of nowhere, saving him and the villagers of Ealdor when it looked like they stood no more chance against Kanen's men. That day he passed out, a pair of wyverns the last thing he saw, and Merlin's wide grin the first thing he laid eyes upon waking up.

Time slowed. A thousand visions seemed to cross his mind all at the same time, blinding him, deafening him– fires, swords clanging, winds howling, battle cries, until he reached that particular warm night.

The most beautiful tune, a lullaby, the night of the first time he met Merlin. A graceful lady, a sweet melody, and then, in a blink of an eye, a hag pressed underneath a fallen chandelier. A knife sailing towards him.

He gasped, and the pooling tears on his eyes spilled.

 _Merlin_ – all of it, Merlin.

::

 **A/N:** OMG WELCOME BACK GUYS! Lords, it's been _ages_ since I last updated this! I'm really really sorry! This is my first year in uni (technically, it's my second year, but the previous year is just something like matriculation of some sort) and I'm taking Microbiology and to say that it's been eventful is an understatement. Some nights I really didn't get any sleep, but oh well, what can I say, I love microbiology lol! But enough about me, what do you guys think? Merlin and Arthur finally realized who the other really was to them. Arthur realized Merlin had been protecting him all the years he'd hidden his magic and Merlin finally came to a conclusion that his place had always been on Arthur's side. I thought this is how they would've reacted– both of them frightened in the face of the new revelation but deep inside, they'll come to the conclusion that they belong to each other.

But they _still_ haven't found out they are each other's Soulmates–GAH! Hahahahaha, I know I'm sorry! I like working with feels and tension hahahaha, but not to worry, this means we've only got one more chapter and an epilogue! Thank you for those who have reviewed, faved, and got alerted! (We hit one hundred favorites? THAT'S CRAZY OMG GUYS I LOVE YOU!) Stay tuned, I've gone halfway through the last chapter!


	8. Chapter 7

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

::

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

::

 _Chapter 7_

::

 _Merlin_ – all of it Merlin.

Merlin.

 _Merlin_ –

He dug his heels in time to avoid crashing against the physician that just took the turn his way. He looked up to meet Gaius's eyes, and launched into his question in less than a second.

"Where's Merlin?"

Gaius looked back at Arthur in a confused way. "I thought he is attending to your needs, sire,"

Arthur lifted his eyebrows, at loss of what to say. _Merlin is_ –? Oh, why was it always so difficult to find this particular manservant of his when he needed him most?

Arthur almost laughed at the thought– it was almost like the old days. In a fraction of a second he already turned on his heels and sprinted to his room.

::

Merlin soaked the cloth on a bucket of water he had placed on the chair and proceeded to wipe the King's table clean. Sighing, he applied some pressure and began wiping hard.

He didn't know what Arthur had done on the table, what kind of stupid ink he had knocked over the furniture, or if the substitute manservant had tried to clean it at all. The lad obviously didn't know how to clean a simple wooden table– the ink had dried and it wouldn't come off no matter how hard he wiped it.

" _Yeah, don't worry about not being able to clean this impossible ink even though it is your job, my manservant will be back in bit and he'll finish that in no time!_ " Merlin muttered in annoyance under his breath, impersonating the particular Prince of Camelot.

He applied more pressure and wiped back and forth harder. If the ink didn't come off any second now he probably needed to head back to Gaius and ask him for something to help him do so. "Of course it will be me who finish other people's trouble– trust Arthur to do that, above all people–"

The door banged open all of a sudden.

"Merlin–"

Merlin looked up so quickly that he released his grip on the cloth, stepping back and knocking the chair behind him, splashing a bit of water from the bucket on it to the floor. Arthur himself was torn between sighing, rolling his eyes, barking at how clumsy the oaf in front of him was or laughing at how familiar the circumstances was before a cold prick pressed against his gut and left him silent.

Merlin gasped and bent down to wipe the water clumsily, "sorry– sorry, _sorry_ , I didn't hear you coming–"

Arthur wanted to laugh. Days like these—with Merlin with his irritating clumsy antics and him rolling his eyes at the brunet because he was far beyond exhausted at his servant's incapability to do anything right but he still wouldn't have any other manservant—Arthur would do anything to have it back.

He took a deep breath and blink away moist that was gathering on his eyes.

"Your Majesty," Merlin added silently, avoiding his eyes.

Arthur stayed silent for a while and Merlin looked up to meet his eyes. Arthur expected to find them wide in fear, or alert, ready to fight the moment the blonde made any movement to reach his sword, but instead he found nothing but resignation in the brunet's blue eyes, as though he was ready to accept whatever Arthur had to say.

Something twisted in his gut.

"You shouldn't be back to work yet, your ankle–"

Arthur inhaled before his voice could twitch.

Merlin laughed. Good old Merlin, laughing at Arthur's every comment, irritating the blonde because the brunet couldn't seem to ever tell a joke from a sarcastic remark, but which trait Arthur secretly adored.

"Oh, don't worry, it'll heal in a day or two. Got all the rest I need– besides, look at the state of this room! I was off for three days and you've somehow managed to turn it into a mess!"

The brunet widened his eyes as he realized what he had just said and Arthur blinked for several times, registering at how familiar the circumstance really was, before he burst into a fit of laughter.

Merlin too cracked a wide smile on his face, something he hadn't done for days, and joined in Arthur's laughter. He felt lightheaded, as though he had just came into a house with fireplace and beer after days walking through the bone-stabbing snow storm. Something warmed inside his gut. Something old, something dear and inseparable from his soul that he thought he had lost forever was finally back in his embrace—to be at Arthur's side, laughing with him and seeing him like this, it was everything Merlin wanted—before it twisted painfully at the memory of a storm, drowning the two of them in a well, and his hand thrusting upwards to bring the bars off their hinges.

He gulped and noticed Arthur had ceased to laugh as well. He looked down, suddenly finding the floor more interesting, while Arthur failed to hide how he was fidgeting with his rings.

Silence suffocated them for a few seconds, and for a moment, they were back in the well, desperate for air.

"I was worried you ran away," Arthur said in a low voice, avoiding the brunet's blue eyes.

Arthur released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He hadn't been able to think clearly for the past three days. Merlin was one of the things he held closest to his heart, and to finally find out that he had been lying to him all these year had shaken his soul. His world turned upside down and he had no sense of direction. But this time, Arthur found it again–the settling knowledge that he had done the right thing, said the right words. It rang of truth like a beaming beacon in the midst of the fog that had descended to his vision.

There was a reason why he had cast away his sword, gathered Merlin up by his legs and lifted him up to climb up the well that night. Why he had pushed through leagues of forests, letting Merlin leaned on his person even though his dislocated shoulder burned like fire. Why the logical thought of sending his guards to secure Merlin to the dungeon had never once crossed his mind even though he was scared out of his wits to the extent that he didn't let himself sleep peacefully on his bed.

He hadn't figured it out, not even before he had this train of thought– but he was never really afraid of Merlin killing him, he'd always known he'd never done that. Perhaps he had always known, deep in his heart.

From the very beginning, the truth was that losing Merlin was the thing that Arthur had feared.

Unbeknownst to the Prince, his words sent a knife through the brunet's airway, forbidding him to breathe. They were silent for a moment, before Merlin answered.

"I was worried you'd execute me," the brunet replied, just a little louder than a whisper, but Arthur looked up. Merlin looked up to meet his eyes, and there were shame in them.

Shame, and fear, and apology. Arthur was pressing his lips together, but Merlin didn't miss how they quivered slightly.

Arthur turned around to close the door behind him. When he had his back on Merlin, the brunet heard him sniveling. Then he turned, ever so slowly, with his eyes on the floor.

"Everything you've done, I know now, Merlin," Arthur said. Gulping, he steadied his breath.

Merlin just stood there. He wanted to stop Arthur there. Didn't he see he hadn't gone anywhere? He was scared to death Arthur would send his men to his room and collect him, but still he didn't run anywhere. It was as if the young warlock knew Arthur wouldn't do such a thing.

Perhaps he had always known it, deep in his heart.

But he didn't move– he needed to hear it. The thought was so farfetched, and dare he say, dreamlike. He needed to hear Arthur say it, afraid the thought would disappear into thin air.

"Every battle I won, every time I escaped death with my life. It is you who has always been there, no one else. Were it not for you, I didn't know what would become of me, of Camelot."

He was silent for a moment, before adding, with a low voice, "I'm such a fool, Merlin."

He knew it must be hard for Arthur, but he needed to hear it. So he just closed his eyes, letting tears escape his eyelids and slid through the sides of nose.

When Arthur looked up, Merlin was already looking at him, and there were tears on his cheeks– plain, honest, and unhidden. "You are my friend and you are everything that is true in this realm, so, of course I would never execute you, Merlin."

Something broke inside Merlin's chest.

Like a chain. Something so strong and inescapable like the chain that had bound the Great Dragon in the bowels of the castle to the touch of the dragon-forged blade. Like something heavy that he just slid off his back and his wings could finally spread out to its full span, ready to take him soaring into the horizon.

The knife stuck on his airway was being pulled out, and he could finally breathe again. Now, it was his turn to explain.

"You'd probably call me an idiot, but I've never thought of running," Merlin squeaked. They were silent for a moment and the brunet continued. "Well– half-decent princes are hard to come by."

Arthur laughed, and Merlin looked up, grinning wide at Arthur's smile.

"I wasn't that good to you, Merlin," the Prince muttered.

"True," Merlin whispered, looking into Arthur's eyes as they went silent once more, silent apologies passing between them.

Arthur looked back with shame in his eyes. In the light of the recent revelation of Merlin's magic, the brunet knew it had dawned on the blonde before him how one-sidedly unfair was his treatment towards Merlin, the person who saved his backside most of the times, and there was nothing in this world Merlin wanted at the moment other than to close the space between them, hold Arthur's face on his palms, and told him it was alright. He knew Arthur would flinch at his touch, feeling the burn of the unfairness of it all on his skin, although it mattered very little to Merlin. Sure he was a pompous ass most of the day, irritating, and arrogant, but he also wasn't without an honorable disposition and a courageous heart that always put the importance of his people before his own.

He was true in his heart, and Merlin knew it.

So he looked up and his gaze didn't waver when he continued. "But there is nowhere else I'd rather be."

He looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt. "I didn't know what to do with my life, Arthur. I–"

His breath caught, but Merlin pressed on. "I grew up feeling scared and confused. All my life I have to hide because I'd be dead if anyone finds out I have magic. But here– my magic have a purpose here. I'm not useless here. So of course I wouldn't go anywhere."

Merlin looked down and closed his eyes, but he heard Arthur coming closer, his steps slow. When he opened his eyes, Arthur was already in front of him, his arms extended towards him and his gaze never so gentle and honest.

Merlin took his forearm for a handshake, his gaze unfaltering on Arthur's eyes.

No one knew who moved first, but at that precise moment, in between the seconds that stretched into hours as they looked into each other's eyes, something they couldn't control seemed to call out and answer at each other– and before they knew it, they seemed to gravitate towards each other and fell into each other's embrace, warm and safe.

::

As it was with his other battles and his other fortunate misses from death, Arthur once again dreamt of that particular night he almost died. The storm was raging outside and he was trapped in that particular four walled well. The waters filled the cavity he was trapped in, pooling around his feet, hitting his face, flowing down the stone walls.

Across of him was Merlin– but this time he looked into the brunet's aquiline eyes and _knew_.

The brunet's eyes flashed gold, and Arthur smiled.

::

 **A/N:** Alright, that's the last chapter, but we still have an epilogue! What do you guys think? I'm sorry if the point of view is a little bit confusing. I noticed it too but this is a very important scene to me and, being the emotional little sap I am, I think both Merlin and Arthur's perspectives are important to this reconciliation scene, so I tried to make the transitions smooth, but oh I don't know. I'm sorry!

So, that leaves us with, (surprise, surprise) the epilogue and the Soulmate revelation! YAY! Ahahahahahh I KNOOOWWWW, oh gods please don't stone me to death for not having them realize they're soulmates until the very last moment! I do love writing angsty tension, apparently. Lords, I must be insane.

Anyways, thank you for faving, reviewing, and staying alerted!


	9. Epilogue

**Sides  
** by: imagia-quill

:

 **Disclaimer:** Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

 **Fore A/N:** YAY HERE WE GO GUYS, the epilogue!

:

 _Epilogue_

:

Quite miraculously, and most beautifully, life continued normally in Camelot.

Arthur, his shoulder now back to perfect health, resumed his duty as the Regent of the kingdom in the absence of his father and fell back to his routine of training his Knights and coming to council meetings. And Merlin, with his ankle fully healed after one more day rest, got back to serve in the royal household, being Arthur's most trusted advisor, and of course, being back to the receiving end of Arthur's sarcastic comments about how clumsy the brunet could be.

Which he always replied with his equally sassy remarks. And a magic prank, for good measure.

Merlin was now allowed to perform tiny sorceries to help him. Lighting the fireplace, washing Arthur's numerous socks that he didn't even want to get close by anymore because it honestly smelled like dead rats sometimes, other domestic tasks.

Arthur couldn't lift the ban from the kingdom just yet. To do that, they would need to break the truth to Uther—tell him that his son's most trusted friend and one of the most closest individual to the heart of the dynasty was a sorcerer, show him that there was only evil in the wielder of the magic crafts – in the hearts of men, and not in the sorcery itself—and so many other dangerous things that could go wrong with the King's condition like that and a deranged sorceress like Morgana roaming the woods, acting as the epitome of the full power of sorcery. Merlin knew it would be a great journey from what they've got now, and he knew Arthur would need him by his side to show Camelot the truth, so he reserved to his duty as Arthur's most trusted advisor.

:

The first time Merlin was allowed to perform magic upon Arthur's approval, the blonde's jaw was hanging.

A large storm was raging outside that evening, and it was all Merlin could do to keep the room warm enough. Arthur had just finished his dinner and Merlin rose from where he was sitting on the other side of the room, tidying the Prince's bed, to gather the dirty plates back to the Royal Kitchen.

The two of them was unusually quiet that day but Merlin knew they were thinking of the same thing. Another storm, seemingly a lifetime away. A well, and raindrops pooling around their legs, rising to their thighs on an enormous speed. Arthur's sword on his gut, and the blonde's arms on his legs, lifting him up.

Merlin must've imagined it, but for a moment, a dull prick shot up from his ankle. On the other side of the room, Merlin caught Arthur subtly gave a slight flex on his shoulder.

A thunder cracked outside and the sound of silverware against the floor echoed in the room. Merlin just dropped the wine jug.

"Oh no, forgive me," Merlin gasped, quickly falling to his knees to wipe the red wine off the floor.

He could feel the heat spreading up from his neck as he sensed Arthur's eyes on him. Several moments passed as Merlin busied himself to wipe the floor clean with a piece of cloth before Arthur asked the question.

Merlin couldn't believe his ears the first time he heard it.

"Why don't you use magic?"

Merlin looked up, with a dumb expression that must be written all over his face. "What?"

"Why don't you use magic? It's taking you forever to wipe it clean," Arthur elaborated, leaning to the wall on his shoulder in a boyish fashion, as though what he had just suggested was something out of common sense instead of a crime punishable by death by Uther's decree.

Merlin gulped and blinked, before muttering with a low voice, "I can use–?"

Arthur then straightened up, before his eyes softening at Merlin's. "If you'd like to."

Merlin blinked several times before taking a deep breath. He eyed the remaining red wine on the floor and whispered, " _Feormian win rénian_." **[1]**

The red stains on the floor came together before floating up and pour themselves into the jug, filling the quiet room with the sound of filling water against the silverware. The floor was clean but Merlin's eyes still didn't leave the particular spot on the floor. Arthur didn't interrupt him. For a moment, they were both quiet.

"It feels strange," Merlin muttered after a long silence.

He looked up and found that Arthur had been looking at him, with a look of fascination, instead of fear and shock that the brunet had expected, etched on his face. The blonde cracked a soft smile before he turned on his heel and went to rummage through a stack of papers on his desk, chuckling at the brunet teasingly as he did so.

"No, what is strange is that you're still terrified of thunders for all the powers you have," Arthur teased, prompting the heat to continue spreading from the brunet's neck.

He was rather scared of thunders, if he were to be quite truthful.

"I'm not scared of thunders!" Merlin denied, his pitch rising slightly in defense.

Hearing this, the blonde released his laughter. "Yes, you are, you jumped out of your skin."

Merlin huffed, cocking his head to the side. Apparently, Arthur still hadn't changed. "And you're such an ass."

"Now you just committed a punishable crime," Arthur replied cockily, which must have released a subconscious response from Merlin, because the next moment they knew, Arthur actually _brayed_.

Merlin gasped. Both of them looked up and found each other's eyes so quickly that it was amazing their neck didn't sprain. Merlin looked utterly horrified and shocked that he had unconsciously enchanted Arthur —he didn't mean to do so, he truly didn't—while Arthur's jaw was hanging before he narrowed his eyes on Merlin.

"Did I just bray?"

He didn't mean it—he didn't mean it—but it also wasn't his fault that he thought of enchanting the Crown Prince in front of him to bray when he was _such_ an ass—

"I– I think so– I'm sorry! I didn't mean to–"

Arthur rose from his seat and Merlin fell silent, waiting for the worst.

"So it's you who enchant me to bray, the day after Gaius incarcerated the Goblin?"

Merlin fell silent– he wasn't expecting this.

"I– yes, but–" Merlin stammered but Arthur already launched at him.

"It's you!" Arthur shouted, his arms swinging and catching the brunet's head, rubbing Merlin's head hard with his knuckles.

Merlin broke into a series of laughter.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I can't help but think _the braying suits you_ –"

Arthur actually barked, laughing boyishly. "–shut up!—"

He rubbed the brunet's head harder, prompting Merlin to laugh louder.

"–since you're still an ass!–"

Arthur locked his legs and knocked Merlin's footing, sending the two of them toppling to the ground.

"How many times have you played tricks to embarrass me, Merlin?"

Merlin couldn't find the breath to throw back a witty remark– he was giggling so hard. Arthur pinned him down to the floor, himself joining the brunet in a breathless laughter that seemed to fill the room. Arthur was heavy on top of him, their legs were a messy tangle that snaked on each other on weird angles, and Merlin's face was quite literally almost brushing the stone floor, but he didn't care. The room was suddenly warm and the raging storm outside ceased to be heard. He could almost feel Arthur's breath on his temple, short from laughing, and it was all that mattered to Merlin at the moment.

It was the first time Merlin actually laughed since he revealed himself to Arthur.

The floor still smelled slightly like wine, and to Merlin, giggling under the weight of Arthur as the latter pinned him down and gave him a boyish rub on the head, it was almost intoxicating.

:

One day Merlin found Arthur so silent that he couldn't even get a response when he purposefully made a clumsy knock over a pail of water in front of Arthur.

Merlin's huffed, shoulder sagged. He silently incanted for the water to flow back to the bucket and approached the blonde. Arthur seemed not to notice, even when he approached to stand next to him, his thoughts far away. So Merlin asked him with a gentle voice, "Arthur, what's wrong?"

It seemed to coax some response out of the blonde, as he slowly looked up and shifted his gaze to meet Merlin's. They looked at each other for several seconds before Arthur asked.

"Merlin, do you think of me as a friend?"

Merlin was evidently taken aback. Of course Arthur was his friend—his best friend, he even dared say. There was no one in the whole kingdom he was more prepared to lay down his life for than this pompous ass in front of him.

Merlin sighed—he knew Arthur was usually thinking of a suicide mission or some other stupid acts that he would do in the name of chivalry when he began launching on such speech, and was about to leave Merlin in Camelot because he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Which was completely ludicrous, now that they both knew of Merlin's magic and the real reason why Arthur survived most of his battles. Merlin could take care of himself, and what was more, Arthur usually need looking after for. He couldn't shut Merlin out like that.

"Alright, what is it? Are we about to cross the border and embark on dangerous missions? Catching Morgana? Some old sorcerers that your father made an enemy with–"

Arthur visibly flinched, and Merlin stopped midsentence. "Just answer me, do you see me as a friend?"

"Yes," Merlin answered, almost without missing a beat. "Yes, of course you are my friend, Arthur."

The blonde before him closed his eyes, before he rose from his seat to stand before the window. Merlin followed him with his eyes.

"You shouldn't, you know," Arthur said in a low voice.

He knew where this conversation was going. He knew it would come up any day now, if he were to be honest.

"I have killed your kind. For all the goodness in the hearts of your people, I killed them. I murdered them. Their blood is on my hands and there is nothing I can do now to make right all the sins I've committed," Arthur explained. He was silent for a long time, before adding with a low voice, almost as though he was afraid to say it, "Merlin, I'm not your friend."

Merlin closed his eyes and sighed in silent despair. "Arthur, don't say that–"

"It's true!" Arthur cut him off. "How can you say that I am your friend–"

Merlin shook his head slowly– Arthur was being impossible again. "Arthur, listen to me–"

"–when I have blindly killed your kind, although they didn't do anything but trying–"

"No– stop it–"

"–to survive in my father's regime. And not to mention that it's not even their fault that–"

The air was thin, it wasn't exactly how Merlin predicted the conversation was going to be, and he was forced to cut the Prince off before he could say anything else.

"Arthur– Arthur, look at me!"

Miraculously, Arthur fell silent. He turned back to meet Merlin's determined eyes that didn't leave Arthur's as he approached the Crown Prince slowly. Merlin stopped to stand next to Arthur before the window that overlooked the courtyard, but the brunet didn't take his eyes off from Arthur. He needed to convince Arthur– all the horrors and the sins he had committed, it was all Uther's teachings.

Because when he looked at Arthur, he didn't see Uther.

He saw a young man, barely of age, smuggling a Druid boy from the cellar under his father's nose, because it was the right course of action, contrary to the murderous label Uther had given to the Druid people. He saw a knight, travelling leagues of woods because a servant was lying on a cot in Camelot, dying from poison, or because his people were starving to death. He saw a Prince, his eyes dark with age and his figure heavy with the burden of a beheading that his father had scheduled on the next sunrise, despite his youth, and his voice hoarse because Merlin knew he had been arguing with Uther the evening before. Because when he saw Arthur, he saw an enraged and anguished man, storming into the court room and threatening a sword on the king's throat because it had dawned on him how many innocent lives Uther had executed– on which exact moment Merlin knew Arthur was not his father.

He was everything Uther was not.

"Their blood is not on your hands," Merlin said after a long pause, his voice gentle. Because he meant it– every word, every syllable, every breath. "You cannot be blamed for all the wrongs that Uther taught you."

"I used to believe it," Arthur whispered, barely audible, averting his eyes once more.

"Your father made you to, it's not your fault."

They both knew it's not enough. As true as the fact that it was his father's teaching that made Arthur do it, it still didn't change the fact that he had slain so many innocent lives, execute so many people, burned so many bodies.

But Merlin knew they had to make it enough. There was nothing that could bridge the two of them regarding the lost lives of these sorcerers but their complete trust on each other, so they had to make it enough.

:

But Merlin appreciated what he got nonetheless. Honestly, it was a great improvement to wash Arthur's socks from afar. He could even do that while doing two other tasks at the same time.

Sometimes, when Merlin performed the tiniest sorceries, he would catch the blonde looking into his eyes with fascination on his face and a fond smile on his lips.

"Alright, what is it, Arthur?" Merlin asked him after several days noticing how Arthur kept doing that.

Arthur chuckled. "What is what?"

"You—smiling and all that after I performed magic," he elaborated. "Is it something I did? Is it bothering you–"

"No! No, no," Arthur cut him midsentence, sending the brunet silent. "It's just…"

Merlin stayed silent, waiting for Arthur. After some moments, Arthur looked up and seemed more bashful than anything when he said, "it's just your eyes are beautiful when they flash golden like that."

Merlin just smiled.

:

Gaius released a tired breath as he paused his walk on the hallway. It had always been like this every summer– the summer atmosphere and celebrations, the people of Camelot's lower town downing one too many tankards of cider on one go and gods know what else during these nights that caused them peculiar illness, and Gaius having to visit them the next morning because they complained they seemed to lose their sights. The unbearable heat also didn't help.

In short, it had been a very tiring day for the old Physician. Not to mention Merlin had been absent these past few weeks and hadn't been able to help him during these tiresome trips to the Lower Town.

Not that he wasn't happy for Merlin.

The first time Merlin went back to their chamber in the Physician's Wing, the brunet was beaming so bright that Gaius almost thought the warlock was in love. Happy was an understatement when Merlin told him that Arthur had accepted him back to the royal household, after three of the darkest days Gaius had seen on the sorcerer's life where he hid in his room like a terrified deer.

The days after it, the brunet hadn't seemed to leave the Prince's side– he went for Arthur very early every morning and came back to the Physician's Wing very late at night, if not at all.

But honestly, he would be more than glad if he could borrow the Prince's certain manservant to help him once in a while.

Gaius resumed his walk to the Court Room and was rather surprised to find the guards standing on the outer hallway instead of guarding the main entrance. He was even more surprise to find the scene within, before his heart softened in realization.

Arthur was sitting on the head of the table, papers and scrolls strewn in front of him, his brow furrowing as he held two parchments on each of his hand, seemingly comparing the two. Beside him was Merlin, sitting on a seat next to him, his neck cocked to a side as he tried to read a scroll. Both of them looked so immersed that none of them noticed Gaius stood there, blinking for several moments as he registered the view before him.

Merlin was conversing with Arthur regarding the matters of Camelot and there was no man on the door– not only was Arthur asking for Merlin's counsel as equals, he trusted him to provide him physical protection.

Gaius smiled.

Arthur and Merlin looked up and broke a smile in an almost harmonious movement.

Arthur rose from his seat to greet him. "Ah, Gaius! We've been expecting you. Please, have a seat, you look very tired."

He then led Gaius to have the other seat next to his on the table. "What news of the Lower Town?"

"Oh, it's just the heat, Sire–"

Merlin, on the other hand, had a mixture of surprise and concern written on his face when he looked up. Gaius hadn't finished his sentence before Merlin came to him, his hand already grabbing a goblet and a jug of water from the table. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Gaius– you should've told me the trip would be today– I would've come with you!"

Gaius wanted to tell him that there was almost no chance he could notify Merlin of the trip if the warlock spent all his waking moment on Arthur's side, but found himself not able to say so–he just chuckled at Merlin's antics. "Nonsense, Merlin, I've been doing this every summer."

He then proceed to give the Prince a report of the circumstances on the Lower Town, silently wondering to himself how much longer until the two youths before him realize that they were, indeed, Soulmates.

:

The next day was one of the most mundane days in Camelot.

The summer sun stung at Arthur's nape every time he ventured outside the castle's walls past noon, his list of duty and the invitations to send representatives for foreign diplomatic meetings were piling up on his table, and he had council meetings almost every week.

Arthur sighed as he shuffled the parchments on the table in front of him, trying to find the right letter. He was on one of his council meeting and the room was buzzing with talks about tithes, trades, and political deals. Arthur subconsciously laid his fingers on his temple, messaging his head to ward off a headache that was slowly creeping up his neck.

He found it underneath the map Camelot's land– a letter from Nemeth. They were asking for a diplomatic meeting on next month to discuss the disputed lands of Gedref– thank heavens, finally some concrete progress regarding Gedref–

"Your Highness, I'm afraid we have no other option than to raise the tax," a voice next to him pulled his attention whilst he was still reading the letter. "We still haven't recovered from the loss Morgana inflicted on us on her last assault."

"The tax is already high enough as it is, Sir Ogden, I don't think we can manage to raise it even more without causing riots," Arthur elaborated, putting the letter back on the table. He made a mental note to visit the request letter later that day.

"I also tend to think that way, Your Highness," one of the lords added, approaching him. Arthur looked up.

"Why is that, Sir Cador?"

"Deorham has been sending threats to us, Your Majesty. With Alined, it almost always means aggression, it is of my humble opinion that we might not survive another tax raise to fund our defense if it happens," Sir Cador replied, handing him several parchments of patrol report.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrow. _Not Alined again_ – that particular king certainly had a taste for violence that Arthur couldn't understand.

"That old crone and war are certainly two sides of the same coin, aren't they–"

Arthur looked up.

"Certainly, Sir Ogden, but by all means we cannot ignore Alined's threats–"

Something registered on Arthur's mind.

"There are talks of uniting Alined's nephew and Mercia's daughter in marriage, there's a possibility they will be able to join forces within a short moment–"

The rest of the voices filling the room dimmed to a dull buzz.

"Sire, we can be battling two armies at the same time–"

They didn't matter– _they didn't matter_ – for heaven's sake, they didn't matter!

The only important thing to him right now was another pair of aquiline eyes, staring up at him from the other side of the room, his mouth hanging slightly agape, and his hold of the tray on which a goblet and a jug of water sat slacked, sending an echoing sound of metal against stone floor.

On his side of the room, Arthur's arms fell limp, the parchments in his hands floating down and landed on his feet. The air thinned, or he might just forget how to breathe properly.

Time swam as seconds stretched into hours and lulled him as he gaze into Merlin's eyes for what seemed to be eternity. Lights seemed to bend as everything seemed to darken but for the brunet on the other side of the room. Gravity stopped making sense either. The castle seemed to tilt slightly, as Arthur felt like falling forward—towards Merlin—, or perhaps it was just his _soul_ , gravitating towards Merlin.

Arthur's lips felt dull, but he managed to let the words out of his mouth. "Leave us."

 _Us._

The room fell silent. None of the courtiers seemed to notice Arthur's strange behavior as they slowly filed out of the rooms, leaving parchments and scrolls strewn messily across the length of the long table, but Arthur couldn't care less.

He couldn't care less–

Because in front of him stood another soul whose shock mirrored his.

Arthur stepped forward, a movement Merlin mirrored in exact precision Arthur would've laughed if the circumstances were different. He just walked and walked, until they met each other on the center of the room, with their eyes never leaving each other's.

They were standing a foot apart, and Arthur just realized the inner portion of Merlin's iris was not merely blue, but a beautiful hue of a lake's that shimmered under the sun.

His heart was beating so fast Arthur could've sworn it was beating with the vigor of two hearts at the same time. He almost felt like it was Merlin's heart that was beating inside his chest, and it was Merlin's blood that was coursing through his veins–

And it was Merlin's soul that was residing in his body.

 _Two sides of the same coin_ – it made the most beautiful and sublime sense and Arthur felt like he was about to cry.

His right hand slowly rose to Merlin's chest before he laid his palm ever so gently on the brunet's sternum, feeling his heartbeat, resting where he knew a royal inscription—his own penmanship— inked the skin on his sternum underneath his neckerchief. ' _Two sides_.'

He hadn't left Merlin's eyes, but then he noticed it– Merlin's hand on top of him, pressing his palm to the brunet's heart while gently caressing his four fingers, underneath which rings he knew Merlin knew was scribbled with ' _of the same coin'_ in the messy handwriting of his best friend's.

"It's you," they both whispered at each other gently, feeling each other's breath on their faces.

They broke into the widest smile they've ever done. For a moment, they were the brightest two suns of the whole universe, beaming at each other, because for that moment, their souls were one.

 _Fin._

:

 **[1]:** Clean and dispose of the wine. (Edwin used _Feormian dust rénian_ in A Remedy to Cure All Ills, which means clean and dispose of the dust. I changed the _dust_ with _win_ , the Old English of _wine_ , if the online Old English translator I'm using can be of adequate credibility.)

:

 **A/N:** YAAAAAAAYYYYYY IT'S FINISHED! AHAHAHAHAHH I FEEL LIKE CRYING, MY TWO BOYS ARE FINALLY UNITED! *SCREECHES BECAUSE I CAN'T HANDLE THE AMOUNT OF CUTENESS FOR THE EMOTIONAL SAP THAT I AM*

Hahahahahh, my gushing aside, what do you guys think of the epilogue and of the whole story? I'm sorry I put the Soulpoetry revelation at the very last. Well– we've learned from the best, haven't we? BBC reserved Merlin's magic reveal until the very last, after all *le twisted between laughing evilly and rolling on the floor sobbing*.

So yeah, what do you guys think? The story may be finished, but I'm still open to constructive criticism and suggestion, so don't worry!

All in all, I'm still open to constructive criticism, and I want to thank all you guys who have faved, got alerted, followed, and most importantly, who gave me reviews and feedbacks every time I updated and basically gave me the reason to continue writing! I love you guys!

So, that's all from me, see you on my next Merthur work! (Hopefully, lol, because I'm planning to write more Merthur!)


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